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i 


AUTHOR: 


HEEREN,  ARNOLD 
HERMAN  LUDWIG 


TITLE : 


ANCIENT  GREECE 


PLACE: 


LONDON 


DA  TE : 


1847 


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P913 

I 


\  I 


Heeren,  Arnold  Hermann  Ludwig,  1760-1842. 

Ancient  Greece.  Tr.  from  the  German  of  Arnold  II.  L. 
Heeren,  by  George  Bancroft.  Also  three  historical  trea- 
tises, by  the  same  author,  t.— Political  consequences  of 
the  reformation.  n.—The  rise,  progress,  and  piaetical 
influence  of  political  theoiies.  iii.— The  rise  and  growth 
of  the  continental  interests  of  Great  Britaiii.  New  and 
improved  ed.    London,  H.  G.  Bohn,  1847. 

xii,  518  p.    22^^". 

J^??>^r?^""^^  forms  in  the  original  a  portion  of  an  extensive' work,  enti- 
tled Rcficctions  on  the  poHtics,  inlercourse  and  commerce  of  the  chief 
nations  of  antiquity."     cf.  Translator's  pref. 

l._Greece.  2.  Reformation.  3.  Europe— Politics.  4.  Gt.  Brit —Pol  & 
govt.        i.^ancroTt;  '""  George,  1 800-1 89ri,"tr. 

17-20478 


•38    Copy  in  Phoenix  Li     "^Vary,    1847. 


Library-  of  Congress 


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Columbia  (Hnitie r^fftp 

intl)f(£itpofllft»lork 


LIBRARY 


ANCIENT    GEBECE. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF 


ARNOLD   H.    L.   HEEREN, 


»  <  . 


BY  GEORGE  BANCROFT. 


ALSO 


THREE    HISTORICAL    TREATISES, 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


I.— POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

IL— THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  AND  PRACTICAL  INFLUENCE  OF 

POLITICAL  THEORIES. 

III.— THE  RISE  AND  GROWTH  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL  INTERESTS 

OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


NEW  AND  IMPROVED  EDITION. 


LONDON 


HENRY  G.  BOHN,  lORK  STREET,  COVENT  GARDEN. 


IIPCCCXT.VII. 


I^ll' 


I 

i 


ANCIENT   GEEECE. 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF 


ARNOLD    H.  L.   HEEREN, 


BY 


GEORGE  BANCROFT. 


•     •  *  • 

•  •  •  ■  • 

•  •    •  •  • 


^  •    •  •  • 

•    >  «    I 


i.OHN.^H^tLS    AND  SON, :BUN3AV 


•  :         t         .1 


CD 
CD 


-J 


295044 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


THE  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 


TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


CHAP.  PAGE 

General  Preliminary  Remarks vii 

I.  Geographical  View  of  Greece 1 

IL  Earliest  Condition  of  the  Nation  ;  and  its  Branches  ...  21 

III.  Original  Sources  of  the  Culture  of  the  Greeks      ....  26 

IV.  The  Heroic  Age.     The  Trojan  War 50 

V.  The  Period  following  the  Heroic  Age.  Migrations.  Origin 
of  Republican  Forms  of  Government,  and  their  Cha- 
racter      Q2 

VI.  Homer.     The  Epic  Poets 57 

VII.  Means  of  Preserving  the  National  Character 80 

VIII.  The  Persian  Wars  and  their  Consequences 93 

IX.  Constitutions  of  the  Grecian  States 104 

X.  The  Political  Economy  of  the  Greeks 123 

XL  The  Judicial  Institutions 145 

XII.  The  Army  and  Navy 1 54 

XIII.  Statesmen  and  Orators 173 

XIV.  The  Sciences  in  Connexion  with  the  State 191 

XV.  Poetry  and  the  Arts  in  Connexion  with  the  State      .     .     .217 

XVI.  Causes  of  the  Fall  of  Greece 235 


The  volume  of  which  a  translation  is  here  offered  to  the  public,  forms  in 
the  original  a  portion  of  an  extensive  work,  entitled,  "  Reflections  on  the 
Politics,  Intercourse,  and  Commerce  of  the  chief  Nations  of  Antiquity."  Mr. 
Heeren  has  accomplished  his  design  only  with  respect  to  the  nations  of  Asia 
and  Africa.  On  those  of  Europe  he  has  published  nothing  further  than  the 
present  series  of  essays,  which  relate  solely  to  subjects  connected  with  the 
political  institutions  of  the  Greeks,  and  may  be  regarded  as  an  independent 
collection  of  historical  sketches. 

It  is  on  that  larger  work  that  the  literary  reputation  of  Mr.  Heeren  prima- 
rily depends.  With  respect  to  the  Asiatic  and  African  nations,  he  has  dis- 
cussed his  subject  in  its  full  extent,  and  furnishes  a  more  distinct  account  of 
their  ancient  condition  than  has  perhaps  been  given  by  any  other  writer. 
Early  in  life  he  was  led  to  consider  the  history  of  the  world  as  influenced  by 
colonial  establishments  and  commerce ;  and  the  results  of  his  investigations 
in  a  department  of  science  to  which  he  is  enthusiastically  attached,  and  to 
which  he  has  uninterruptedly  devoted  the  most  precious  years  of  a  lono-  Hfe, 
are  communicated  in  the  elaborate  production  which  we  have  named.    ^ 

In  that  portion  which  relates  to  Asia,  after  considering  the  character  of 
the  continent  itself,  he  first  treats  of  the  Persians,  giving  a  geographical  and 
statistical  account  of  their  ancient  empire,  their  form  of  government,  the  rights 
and  authority  of  their  kings,  the  administration  of  their  provinces,  and  their 
military  resources. 

The  Phoenicians  next  pass  in  review ;  and  a  sketch  is  given  of  their  inter- 
nal condition  and  government,  their  colonies  and  foreign  possessions,  their 
commerce,  their  manufactures  and  inland  trade. 

The  country  and  nation  of  the  Babylonians,  and  their  commerce,  form  the 
next  subjects  of  consideration. 

The  Scythians  are  then  delineated,  and  a  geographical  survey  of  their 
several  tribes  is  naturally  followed  by  an  inquiry  into  the  commerce  and  in- 
tercourse of  the  nations  which  inhabited  the  middle  of  Asia. 

In  treating  of  India,  it  was  necessary  to  consider  with  careful  criticism, 
the  knowledge  which  still  remains  to  us  of  that  distant  country,  and  to  collect 
such  fragments  of  information  as  can  be  found  respecting  its  earliest  history, 
political  constitution,  and  commerce.  The  Indians  are  the  most  remote  Asi- 
atic nation  which  had  an  influence  on  the  higher  culture  of  the  ancient  world 
and  with  them  the  division  which  treats  of  Asia  is  terminated. 

To  the  lover  of  studies  connected  with  antiquity,  the  history  of  the  African 
nations  possesses  the  deepest  interest.  Beside  the  physical  peculiarities  of 
this  singular  part  of  the  globe,  the  Carthaginians  present  the  most  remark- 
able example  of  the  wealth  and  power  which  a  state  may  acquire  by  com- 
merce alone ;  and  at  the  same  time,  it  shows  most  forcibly  the  changes  to 
which  such  a  state  is  exposed,  when  the  uncertainty  of  its  resources  is 
increased  by  a  want  of  the  higher  virtues,  of  valour,  faith,  and  religion.  In 
Egypt,  on  the  other  hand,  the  vast  antiquity  of  its  political  institutions,  the 
veil  of  uncertainty  which  hangs  over  its  early  condition,  connected  with  the 


VI 


PREFACE. 


magnificence  of  its  monuments,  that  have,  as  it  were,  been  discovered  within 
the  recollection  of  our  contemporaries,  all  serve  to  render  that  country  a  most 
interesting  subject  of  speculation  and  critical  study. 

The  volume  on  Africa  first  introduces  the  Carthaginians,  who  had  the  me- 
lancholy fate  of  becoming  famous  only  by  their  ruin.  Mr.  Heeren  discusses 
the  condition  of  their  African  territory,  their  foreign  provinces  and  colonies, 
their  form  of  government,  their  revenue,  their  commerce  by  land  and  by  sea, 
their  military  force,  and  lastly  the  decline  and  fall  of  their  state. 

Before  entering  upon  the  consideration  of  the  Egj'ptians,  Mr.  Heeren 
ascends  the  Nile,  and  presents  us  with  a  geographical  sketch  of  the  Ethiopian 
nations,  an  account  of  the  state  of  Meroe,  and  of  the  commerce  of  Meroe  and 
Ethiopia. 

The  Egyptians  are  then  considered.  A  general  view  of  their  country  and 
its  inhabitants,  its  political  condition  and  its  commerce, — these  are  the  topics, 
under  which  he  treats  of  that  most  ancient  people.  The  whole  is  concluded 
by  an  analysis  of  the  monuments  which  yet  remain  of  Egyptian  Thebes. 

These  are  the  subjects  which  are  discussed  in  the  "  Reflections  of  Heeren," 
a  work  which  deservedly  holds  a  high  rank  among  the  best  historical  pro- 
ductions of  our  age.  Mr.  Heeren's  style  is  uniformly  clear,  and  there  are  few 
of  his  countrymen  whose  works  so  readily  admit  of  being  translated.  We 
may  add,  there  are  few  so  uniformly  distinguished  for  sound  sense  and  a  ra- 
tional and  liberal  method  of  studying  the  monuments  of  antiquity.  He  is 
entirely  free  from  any  undue  fondness  for  philosophical  speculations,  but  re- 
commends himself  by  his  perspicuity,  moderation,  and  flowing  style. 

The  business  of  translating  is  but  a  humble  one ;  and  yet  it  may  be  the 
surest  method  of  increasing  the  number  of  good  books  which  are  in  the  hands 
of  our  countrymen.     None  can  be  offered  more  directly  interesting  to  them, 
than  those  which  relate  to  political  institutions.     Holding  as  we  do  our  des- 
tinies and  our  national  character  and  prosperity  in  our  own  hands,  it  becomes 
us  to  contemplate  the  revolutions  of  governments  ;  to  study  human  nature, 
as  exhibited  m  its  gi-andest  features  in  the  changes  of  nations ;  to  consider 
not  only  the  poHtics  of  the  present  age,  but  gaining  some  firm  ground,  such  as 
history  pomts  out,  to  observe  with  careful  attention  the  wrecks  of  other  in- 
stitutions and  other  times.     The  present  volume  may  perhaps  do  something 
to  call  public  attention  to  the  merits  and  true  character  of  the  ancient  Greeks. 
The  admirers  of  Grecian  eloquence  will  find  in  one  of  the  chapters,  an  out- 
line of  the  political  career  of  Demosthenes.  His  reputation  is  there  vindicated 
from  the  calumnies  that  have  so  long  been  heaped  upon  one  of  the  noblest, 
most  persevering,  most  disinterested  advocates  of  the  cause  of  suffering  liberty. 
The  Translator  hopes  the  work  will  prove  acceptable  to  scholars  and  those 
who  have  leisure  for  the  study  of  history ;  and  that  it  will  be  received  by 
them  as  an  earnest  of  his  desire  to  do  something,  however  Httle  it  may  be, 
for  the  advancement  of  learning  in  our  common  country. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 

This  translation,  of  which  two  or  three  editions  have  been  published  in 
England,  has  recently  been  adopted  as  a  text-book  in  Harvard  College 
Hence  it  became  necessary  to  reprint  it;  and  the  opportunity  has  been  seized 
to  revise  it,  and  to  adopt  the  few  changes  and  additions,  which  were  made  bv 
Mr.  Heeren  in  the  latest  edition  of  his  works. 

Boston,  February  12, 1842. 


GENERAL  PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 


To  the  student  of  the  history  of  man,  there  is  hardly  a  pheno- 
menon more  important  in  itself,  or  more  difficult  of  explana- 
tion, than  the  superiority  of  Europe  over  the  other  parts  of  our 
earth.  Whatever  justice  may  be  rendered  to  other  lands  and 
nations,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  noblest  and  best  of  every 
thing,  which  humanity  has  produced,  sprung  up,  or  at  least 
ripened,  on  European  soil.  In  the  multitude,  variety,  and  beauty 
of  their  natural  productions,  Asia  and  Africa  far  surpass  Europe  ; 
but  in  every  thing  which  is  the  work  of  man,  the  nations  of  Eu- 
rope stand  far  above  those  of  the  other  continents.  It  was  among 
them,  that,  by  making  marriage  the  union  of  but  one  with  one, 
domestic  society  obtained  that  form,  without  which  the  higher 
culture  of  so  many  parts  of  our  nature  could  never  have  been  at- 
tained ;  and  if  slavery  and  bondage  were  established  among  them, 
they  alone,  recognising  their  injustice,  abolished  them.  It  was 
chiefly  and  almost  exclusively  among  them,  that  such  constitutions 
were  framed,  as  are  suited  to  nations  who  have  become  conscious 
of  their  rights.  If  Asia,  during  all  the  changes  in  its  extensive 
empires,  does  but  show  the  continued  reproduction  of  despotism, 
it  was  on  European  soil  that  the  germ  of  political  freedom  unfolded 
itself,  and  under  the  most  various  forms,  in  so  many  places,  bore 
the  noblest  fruits ;  which  again  were  transplanted  to  other  parts 
of  the  world.  The  simplest  inventions  of  the  mechanic  arts  may 
perhaps  belong  in  part  to  the  East ;  but  how  have  they  all  been 
perfected  by  Europeans !  What  progress  from  the  loom  of  the 
Hindoo  to  the  power-looms  driven  by  steam  ;  from  the  sun-dial  to 
the  chronometer,  which  guides  the  mariner  over  the  ocean ;  from 
the  bark  canoe  of  the  Mohawk  to  the  British  man-of-war!  And 
if  we  direct  our  attention  to  those  nobler  arts,  which,  as  it  were, 
raise  human  nature  above  itself,  what  a  distance  between  the  Ju- 
piter of  Phidias  and  an  Indian  idol ;  between  the  Transfiguration 
of  Raphael  and  the  works  of  a  Chinese  painter !  The  East  had  its 
annalists,  but  never  produced  a  Tacitus,  or  a  Gibbon ;  it  had  its 
poets,  but  never  advanced  to  criticism  ;  it  had  its  sages,  who  not 
unfrequently  produced  a  powerful  effect  on  their  nations  by  means 
of  their  doctrines  ;  but  a  Plato  or  a  Kant  never  ripened  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ganges  and  the  Hoangho. 


Vlll 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 


Nor  can  we  less  admire  that  political  superiority,  which  the 
nations  of  this  small  region,  just  emerging  from  savage  life,  im- 
mediately established  over  the  extensive   countries  of  the  laro-e 
continents.    The  East  has  seen  powerful  conquerors  ;  but  it  was 
only  in  Europe  that  generals  appeared,  who  invented  a  science  of 
war  really  worthy  of  the  name.    Hardly  had  a  kingdom  in  Mace- 
donia of  limited  extent  out-grown  its  childhood,  before  Macedo- 
nians ruled  on  the  Indus  as  on  the  Nile.    The  imperial  city  was 
the  heiress  of  the  imperial  nation  ;  Asia  and  Africa  adored  the 
Caesars.    Even  in  the  centuries  of  the  middle  age,  when  the  intel- 
lectual superiority  of  the  Europeans  seemed  to  have  sunk,  the 
nations  of  the  East  attempted  to  subjugate  them  in  vain.    The 
Mongolians  advanced  into  Silesia;    nothing  but  the  wastes   of 
Russia  long  remained  in  their  power :  the  Arabs  desired  to  over- 
run the  West ;  the  sword  of  Charles  Martel  compelled  them  to 
rest  contented  with  a  part  of  Spain ;  and  the  chivalrous  Frank, 
under  the  banner  of  the  cross,  soon  bade  them  defiance  in  their 
own  home.    And  how  did  the  fame  of  Europeans  beam  over  the 
earth,  when,  through  Columbus  and  Vasco  de  Gama,  the  morning 
of  its  fairer  day  began  to  dawn !    The  new  world  at  once  became 
their  prey,  that  it  might  receive  their  culture,  and  become  their 
rival ;  more  than  a  third  part  of  Asia  submitted  to  the  Russian 
sceptre  ;  merchants  on  the  Thames  and  the  Zuyder  See  seized  on 
the  government  of  India ;  and  if  the  Turks  have  thus  far  been 
successful  in  preserving  the  country  which  they  have  robbed  from 
Europe,  will  it  remain  to  them  for  ever  ?    will  it  remain  to  them 
long  ?    The  career  of  conquest  may  have  been  marked  with  seve- 
rity and  blood ;  the  Europeans  became  not  the  tyrants  only,  but 
also  the  instructers  of  the  world.     The  civilization  of  mankind 
seems  lo  be  more  ctxid  more  closely  connected  with  their  proo-ress ; 
and  if,  in  these  times  of  universal  revolution,  any  consoling^pros- 
pect  for  the  future  is  opened,  is  it  not  the  triumph  of  European 
culture  beyond  the  limits  of  Europe  ? 

From  whence  proceeds  this  superiority,  this  universal  sove- 
reignty of  so  small  a  region  as  Europe  ?  An  important  truth  pre- 
sents itself  at  once.  Not  undisciplined  strength,  not  the  mere 
physical  force  of  the  mass,— it  was  intelligence  which  produced  it ; 
and  if  the  military  science  of  Europeans  founded  their  sovereignty^ 
it  was  their  superior  political  science  which  maintained  it.  But 
the  question  which  was  proposed  remains  still  unanswered ;  for 
we  desire  to  know  the  causes  of  this  intellectual  superiority  ;  'and 
why  It  was  in  Europe  that  the  faculties  of  human  nature  were  so 
much  more  beautifully  unfolded  ? 

To  such  a  question  no  perfectly  satisfactory  answer  can  be  given. 
The  phenomenon  is  in  itself  much  too  rich,  much  too  vast  for  that. 
It  will  be  readily  conceded,  that  it  could  only  be  the  conse- 
quence of  many  co-operating  causes ;  of  these  several  can  be  enu- 
merated, and  thus  afford  some  partial  solution.    But  to  enumerate 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 


IX 


them  all  separately,  and  in  their  united  influences,  could  only  be 
done  by  a  mind,  to  which  it  should  be  granted,  from  a  higher  point 
of  N'iew  than  any  to  which  a  mortal  can  attain,  to  contemplate  the 
whole  web  of  the  history  of  our  race,  and  follow  the  course  and 
the  interweaving  of  the  various  threads. 

Here  attention  is  drawn  to  one  important  circumstance,  of 
which  the  cautious  inquirer  almost  fears  to  estimate  the  value. 
Whilst  we  see  the  surface  of  the  other  continents  covered  with  na- 
tions of  different,  and  almost  always  of  dark  colour,  (and,  in  so  far 
as  this  determines  the  race,  of  different  races,)  the  inhabitants  of 
Europe  belong  only  to  one  race.  It  has  not,  and  it  never  had, 
any  other  native  inhabitants  than  white  nations. •  Is  the  white 
man  distinguished  by  greater  natural  talents  ?  Has  he  by  means 
of  them  precedence  over  his  coloured  brethren  ?  This  is  a  ques- 
tion which  physiology  cannot  answer  at  all,  and  which  history 
must  answer  with  timidity.  Who  will  absolutely  deny  that  the 
differences  of  organization,  which  attend  on  the  difference  in  colour, 
can  have  an  influence  on  the  more  rapid  or  more  difiicult  unfold- 
insr  of  the  mind  ?  But,  on  the  other  hand,  who  can  demonstrate 
this  influence,  without  first  raising  that  secret  veil,  which  conceals 
from  us  the  reciprocal  connexion  between  body  and  mind  ?  And 
yet  we  must  esteem  it  probable ;  and  how  much  does  this  proba- 
bility increase  in  strength,  if  we  make  inquiries  of  history  ?  The 
great  superiority  which  the  white  nations  in  all  ages  and  parts  of 
the  world  have  possessed,  is  a  matter  of  fact,  which  cannot  be 
done  away  with  by  denials.  It  may  be  said,  this  was  the  conse- 
qiience  of  external  circumstances,  which  favoured  them  more. 
But  has  this  always  been  so  ?  And  why  has  it  been  so  ?  And, 
further,  why  did  those  darker  nations,  which  rose  above  the  savage 
state,  attain  only  to  a  degree  of  culture  of  their  own ;  a  degree 
which  was  passed  neither  by  the  Egyptian  nor  by  the  [Mongolian, 
neither  by  the  Chinese  nor  the  Hindoo  ?  And  among  the  coloured 
races,  why  did  the  black  remain  behind  the  brown  and  the  yellow  ? 
If  these  observations  cannot  but  make  us  inclined  to  attribute  dif- 
ferences of  capacity  to  the  several  branches  of  our  race,  they  do 
not  on  that  account  prove  an  absolute  want  of  capacity  in  our 
darker  fellow-men,  nor  must  they  be  urged  as  containing  the 
whole  explanation  of  European  superiority.  This,  only,  is  in- 
tended ;  experience  thus  far  seems  to  prove,  that  a  greater  facility 
in  developing  the  powers  of  mind  belongs  to  the  nations  of  a  clear 
colour ;  but  we  will  welcome  the  age  which  shall  contradict  this 
experience,  and  exhibit  cultivated  nations  of  negroes. 

But  however  high  or  low  this  natural  precedency  of  the  Eu- 
ropeans may  be  estimated,  no  one  can  fail  to  observe,  that  the 
physical  qualities  of  this  continent  offer  peculiar  advantages,  which 
naay  serve  not  a  little  to  explain  the  above-mentioned  phenomenon. 

' '  The  Gipsies  are  foreigners ;  and  it  may  seem  doubtful  whether  the  Laplanders 
•re  to  be  reckoned  to  the  white  or  yellow  race. 


iKiSililtaaafcaiawilMiafc'^faimgateJ 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 


Europe  belongs  almost  entirely  to  the  northern  temperate  zone. 
Its  most  important  lands  lie  between  the  fortieth  and  sixtieth  de- 
gree of  north  latitude.  Further  to  the  north  nature  gradually  dies 
away.  Thus  our  continent  has  in  no  part  the  luxuriant  fruitful- 
ness  of  tropic  regions ;  but  also  no  such  ungrateful  climate,  as  to 
make  the  care  for  the  mere  preservation  of  life  exhaust  the  whole 
strength  of  its  inhabitants.  Europe,  except  where  local  causes  put 
obstacles  in  the  way,  is  throughout  susceptible  of  agriculture.  To 
this  it  invites,  or  rather  compels ;  for  it  is  as  little  adapted  to  the 
life  of  hunters  as  of  herdsmen.  Although  its  inhabitants  have  at, 
various  periods  changed  their  places  of  abode,  they  were  never 
nomadic  tribes.  They  emigrated  to  conquer ;  to  make  other  estab- 
lishments where  booty  or  better  lands  attracted  them.  No  Eu- 
ropean nation  ever  lived  in  tents ;  the  well-wooded  plains  offered  in 
abundance  the  materials  for  constructing  those  huts  which  the 
inclement  skies  required.  Its  soil  and  climate  were  peculiarly  fit- 
ted to  accustom  men  to  that  regular  industry,  which  is  the  source 
of  all  prosperity.  If  Europe  could  boast  of  but  few  distinguished 
products,  perhaps  of  no  one  which  was  exclusively  its  own,  the 
transplantation  of  the  choicest  from  distant  regions  made  it 
necessary  to  cherish  and  to  rear  them.  Thus  art  joined  with 
nature,  and  this  union  is  the  mother  of  the  giadual  improvement 
of  our  race.  Without  exertion  man  can  never  enlarge  the  circle 
of  his  ideas ;  but  at  the  same  time  his  mere  preservation  must  not 
claim  the  exercise  of  all  his  faculties.  A  fruitfulness,  sufficient  to 
reward  the  pains  of  culture,  is  spread  almost  equally  over  Europe ; 
there  are  no  vast  tracts  of  perfect  barrenness ;  no  deserts  like  those 
of  Arabia  and  Africa  ;  and  the  steppes,  which  themselves  are  well 
watered,  begin  toAvards  the  east.  Mountains  of  a  moderate  eleva- 
tion usually  interrupt  the  plains  ;  in  every  direction  there  is  an 
agreeable  interchange  of  hill  and  valley ;  and  if  nature  does  not 
exhibit  the  luxurious  pomp  of  the  torrid  zone,  her  awakening  in 
spring  has  charms  which  arc  wanting  to  the  splendid  uniformity 
of  tro])ic  climes. 

It  is  true,  that  a  similar  climate  is  shared  by  a  large  portion  of 
middle  Asia ;  and  it  may  be  asked,  why,  tlien,  opposite  results 
should  be  exhibited,  where  the  shepherd  nations  of  Tartary  and 
Mongolia,  so  long  as  they  roamed  in  their  own  countries,  seem  to 
have  been  compelled  to  remain  for  ever  stationary  ?  But  by  the 
character  of  its  soil,  by  the  interchange  of  mountains  and  valleys, 
by  the  number  of  its  navigable  rivers,  and  above  all,  l)y  its  coasts 
on  the  Mediterranean,  Europe  distinguishes  itself  from  those  re- 
gions so  remarkably,  that  this  similar  temperature  of  the  air,  (which 
is  moreover  not  perfectly  equal  under  equal  degrees  of  latitude, 
since  Asia  is  colder,)  can  afford  no  foundation  for  a  comparison. 

But  can  we  derive  from  this  physical  difference,  those  moral  ad- 
vantages, which  were  produced  by  the  better  regulation  of  domes- 
tic society  ?    With  this  begins  in  some  measure  the  history  of  the 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 


XI 


first  culture  of  our  continent ;  tradition  has  not  forgotten  to  tell, 
how  the  founder  of  the  oldest  colony  among  the  savage  inhabitants 
of  Attica  was  also  the  founder  of  regular  marriages ;  and  who  has 
not  learned  of  Tacitus  the  holy  usage  of  our  German  ancestors  ? 
Is  it  merely  the  character  of  the  climate  which  causes  both  sexes 
to  ripen  more  gradually,  and  at  the  same  time  more  nearly  simul- 
taneously, and  a  cooler  blood  to  flow  in  the  veins  of  man  ;  or  is  a 
more  delicate  sentiment  impressed  upon  the  European,  a  higher 
moral  nobility,  which  determines  the  relation  of  the  two  sexes  ? 
Be  this  as  it  may,  who  does  not  perceive  the  decisive  importance 
of  the  fact  ?  Does  not  the  wall  of  division  which  separates  the  in- 
habitants of  the  East  from  those  of  the  West,  repose  chiefly  on  this 
basis  ?  And  can  it  be  doubted,  that  this  better  domestic  institution 
was  essential  to  the  progress  of  our  political  institutions  ?  For  we 
say  confidently,  no  nation,  where  polygamy  was  established,  has 
ever  obtained  a  free  and  well-ordered  constitution. 

Whether  these  causes  alone,  or  whether  others  beside  them,  (for 
who  will  deny  that  there  may  have  been  others  ?)  procured  for  the 
Europeans  their  superiority,  thus  much  is  certain,  that  all  Europe 
may  now  boast  of  this  superiority.  If  the  nations  of  the  South 
preceded  those  of  the  North,— if  these  w^ere  still  Avandering  in  their 
forests  when  those  had  already  obtained  their  ripeness, — they 
finally  made  up  for  their  dilatoriness.  Their  time  also  came ;  the 
time  when  they  could  look  down  on  their  southern  brethren  with 
a  just  consciousness  of  their  own  worth.  This  leads  us  to  the  im- 
portant differences,  which  are  peculiar  to  the  North  and  the  South 
of  this  continent. 

A  chain  of  mountains,  which,  though  many  arms  extend  to  the 
north  and  south,  runs  in  its  chief  direction  from  west  to  east, 
the  chain  of  the  Alps,  connected  in  the  west  with  the  Pyrenees 
by  the  mountains  of  Sevennes,  extending  to  the  Carpathian  and 
the  Balkan  towards  the  east  as  far  as  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea, 
divides  this  continent  into  two  very  unequal  parts,  the  Southern 
and  the  Northern.  It  separates  the  three  peninsulas  which  run 
to  the  south,  those  of  the  Pyrenees,  Italy,  and  Greece,  together 
with  the  southern  coast  of  France  and  Germany,  from  the  great 
continent  of  Europe,  which  stretches  to  the  north  beyond  the  polar 
circle.  This  last,  which  is  by  far  the  larger  half,  contains  almost 
all  the  chief  streams  of  this  continent ;  the  Ebro,  the  Rhone,  and 
the  Po,  of  all  that  flow  into  the  Mediterranean,  are  alone  important 
for  navigation.  No  other  chain  of  mountains  of  our  earth  has  had 
such  an  influence  on  the  history  of  our  race,  as  the  chain  of  the 
Alps.  During  a  long  succession  of  ages,  it  parted,  as  it  were,  two 
worlds  from  each  other ;  the  fairest  buds  of  civilization  had  already 
opened  under  the  Grecian  and  Hesperian  skies,  whilst  scattered 
tribes  of  barbarians  were  yet  wandering  in  the  forests  of  the  North. 
How  different  would  have  been  the  whole  history  of  Europe,  had 
the  wall  of  the  Alps,  instead  of  being  near  the  Mediterranean, 


i-j^sia:^Jii>itiJ.i^  ii2£3^  JUi^ej&Bii^bi^^^s^^'i 


?t^£':hiL^ 


Xll 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 


been  removed  to  the  shores  of  the  North  Sea  ?  This  boundary,  it 
is  true,  seems  of  less  moment  in  our  time ;  when  the  enterprising 
spirit  of  the  European  has  built  for  itself  a  road  across  the  Alps, 
just  as  it  has  found  a  path  over  the  ocean ;  but  it  was  of  decisive 
importance  for  the  age  of  which  we  are  speaking,  for  antiquity. 
The  North  and  South  were  then  physically,  morally,  and  politically 
divided ;  that  chain  long  remained  the  protecting  bulwark  of  the 
one  against  the  other ;  and  if  Caesar,  finally  breaking  over  these 
boundaries,  removed  in  some  measure  the  political  landmarks,  the 
distinction  still  continues  apparent  between  the  Roman  part  of 
Europe,  and  that  which  never  yielded  to  the  Romans. 

It  is  therefore  only  the  southern  part  of  our  hemisphere,  which 
can  employ  us  in  our  present  inquiries.  Its  limited  extent,  which 
seemed  to  afford  no  room  for  powerful  nations,  was  amply  com- 
pensated by  its  climate  and  situation.  What  traveller  from  the 
North  ever  descended  the  southern  side  of  the  Alps  without  being 
excited  by  the  view  of  the  novel  scenery  that  surrounded  him? 
The  more  beautiful  blue  of  the  Italian  and  Grecian  sky,  the 
milder  air,  the  more  graceful  forms  of  the  mountains,  the  pomp  of 
the  rocky  shores  and  the  islands,  the  dark  tints  of  the  forests  glit- 
tering with  golden  fruits — do  these  exist  merely  in  the  songs  of 
the  poets  ?  Although  the  tropic  climes  are  still  distant,  a  feeling 
of  their  existence  is  awakened  even  here.  The  aloe  grows  wild 
in  Lower  Italy ;  the  sugar-cane  thrives  in  Sicily ;  from  the  top  of 
^tna  the  eye  can  discern  the  rocks  of  Malta,  where  the  fruit  of 
the  palm-tree  ripens,  and  in  the  azure  distance,  even  the  coasts  of 
neighbouring  Africa.*  Here  nature  never  partakes  of  the  uni- 
formity, which  so  long  repressed  the  spirit  of  the  natives  in  the 
forests  and  plains  of  the  North.  In  all  these  countries  there  is  a 
constant  interchange  of  moderately  elevated  mountains  with 
pleasant  valleys  and  level  lands,  over  which  Pomona  has  scattered 
her  choicest  blessings.  The  limited  extent  of  the  countries  allows 
no  large  navigable  rivers ;  but  what  an  indemnification  for  this  is 
found  in  its  extensive  and  richly  indented  coasts  !  The  Mediter- 
ranean Sea  belongs  to  the  South  of  Europe ;  and  it  was  by  means 
of  that  sea,  that  the  nations  of  the  West  were  formed.  Let  an 
extensive  heath  occupy  its  place,  and  we  should  yet  be  wandering 
Tartars  and  Mongolians,  like  the  nomades  of  middle  Asia. 

Of  the  nations  of  the  South,  only  three  can  engage  our  atten- 
tion ;  the  Greeks,  Macedonians,  and  Romans,  the  masters  of  Italy 
and  then  of  the  world.  We  have  named  them  in  the  order  in 
which  history  presents  them  as  prominent,  although  distinguished 
in  different  ways.  We  shall  follow  the  same  order  in  treating  of 
them. 

'  Bartel's  Reise  durch  Sicilien.    B.  II.  p.  338—340. 


GEE  E  C  E. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GEOGRAPHICAL    VIEW    OF    GREECE. 

Were  any  one,  who  is  entirely  unacquainted  with  the 
history  of  the  Greeks,  to  examine  the  map  with  attentive 
eye,  he  could  hardly  remain  in  doubt  that  their  country,  in 
point  of  situation,  is  favoured  by  nature  beyond  any  other 
in  Europe.  It  is  the  most  southern  of  that  continent. 
The  promontory  of  Tsenarium,  in  which  it  terminates,  lies 
under  almost  the  same  degree  of  latitude  with  the  celebrated 
rock  of  Calpe;  and  its  northern  boundary  falls  somewhat  to 
the  south  of  Madrid.  In  this  manner  it  extends  from  that 
promontory  to  Olympus  and  the  Cambunian  mountains, 
which  divide  it  from  Macedonia,  about  two  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles  from  south  to  north.^  Its  eastern  point  is 
the  promontory  of  Sunium  in  Attica;  from  thence  its 
greatest  breadth,  to  the  promontory  of  Leucas  in  the  west, 
is  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles.  The  greatness  of 
the  nation  and  the  abundance  of  its  achievements  easily 
lead  to  the  error  of  believing  the  country  an  extensive  one. 
But  even  if  we  add  all  the  islands,  its  square  contents  are  a 
third  less  than  those  of  Portugal.  But  what  advantages 
of  situation  does  it  not  possess  over  the  Iberian  peninsula. 
If  this,  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  ancients,  was  the 
western  extremity  of  the  world,  as  the  distant  Serica  was 
the  eastern,  Greece  was  as  it  were  in  the  centre  of  the 
most  cultivated  countries  of  three  continents.  A  short 
passage  by  sea  divided  it  from  Italy;  and  the  voyage  to 
Egypt,  Asia  Minor,  and  Phoenicia,  though  somewhat 
longer,  seemed  hardly  more  dangerous. 

'  From  SGi  to  40  degrees  north  latitude. 

B 


2 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


Nature  herself,  in  this  land  of  such  moderate  extent, 
established  the  geographical  divisions,  separating  the  penin- 
sula of  the  Peloponnesus  from  the  main  land ;  and  dividing 
the  latter  into  nearly  equal  parts,  northern  and  southern,  by 
the  chain  of  (Eta,  which  traverses  it  obliquely.  In  every  di- 
rection hills  interchange  with  valleys  and  fruitful  plains; 'and 
though  in  its  narrow  compass  no  large  rivers  are  found,  (the 
Peneus  and  Achelous  are  the  only  considerable  ones,)  its 
extensive  coasts,  abundantly  provided  with  bays,  landing- 
places,  and  natural  harbours,  afford  more  than  an  equivalent. 

The  peninsula  of  Pelops,  so  called  in  honour  of  Pelops, 
who,  according  to  the  tradition,  introduced,  not  war,  but  the 
gifts  of  peace  from  Asia  Minor,  is  about  equal  in  extent  to 
Sicily,  and  forms  the  southernmost  district.'   It  consists  of  a 
central  high  ridge  of  hills,  which  sends  out  several  branches, 
and  some  as  far  as  the  sea;  but  between  these  branches  there 
are  fruitful  plains  well  watered  by  an  abundance  of  streams, 
which  pour  from  the  mountains  in  every  direction.     This 
high  inland  district,  no  where  touching  the  sea,  is  the  far- 
famed  Arcadia  of  poetical  tradition.   Its  highest  ridge.  Mount 
Cyllene,  rises,  according  to  Strabo,  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
stadia  above  the  sea.^  Nature  has  destined  this  country  for 
pastoral  life.    "  The  pastures  and  meadows  in  summer  are 
always  green  and  unscorched ;  for  the  shade  and  moisture 
preserve  them.     The  country  has  an  appearance  similar  to 
that  of  Switzerland,  and  the  Arcadians  in  some  measure 
resemble  the  inhabitants  of  the  Alps.     They  possessed  a  love 
of  freedom  and  yet  a  love  of  money;  for  wherever  there  was 
money,  you  might  see  Arcadian  hirelings.     But  it  is  chiefly 
the  western  part  of  Arcadia  (where  Pan  invented  the  shep- 
herd's flute)  which  deserves  the  name  of  a  pastoral  country. 
Innumerable  brooks,  one  more  delightful  than  the  other, 
sometimes  rushing  impetuously  and  sometimes  gently  mur- 
muring, pour  themselves  down  the  mountains.     Vegetation 
is  rich  and  magnificent;  every  where  freshness  and  coolness 
are  found.     One  flock  of  sheep  succeeds  another,  till  the 
rugged  Taygetus  is  approached;  where  numerous  herds  of 

'  See  the  map  of  the  Peloponnesus  by  Professor  C.  O.  Miiller,  on  which  the 
mountains  as  well  as  the  different  districts  are  given  with  critical  exactness. 

btrabo,  1.  vni.  p.  595,  ed.  Casaub.  I7O7.     The  indefinite  nature  of  the  ac- 
count shows  how  uncertain  it  is. 


GEOGRAPHICAL   VIEW    OF    GREECE.  3 

goats  interchange  with  them."  ^  The  inhabitants  of  Arcadia, 
devoted  to  the  pastoral  life,  preferred  therefore  for  a  long 
time  to  dwell  in  the  open  country  rather  than  in  cities;  and 
when  some  of  these,  particularly  Tegea  and  Mantinea,  be- 
came considerable,  the  contests  between  them  destroyed  the 
peace  and  liberties  of  the  people.  The  shepherd  life  among 
the  Greeks,  although  much  ornamented  by  the  poets,  betrays 
its  origin  in  this;  that  it  arose  among  a  people,  who  did  not 
wander  like  nomades,  but  had  fixed  abodes. 

Round  Arcadia  lay  seven  districts,  almost  all  of  which 
were  well  watered  by  streams,  that  descended  from  its  high- 
lands. In  the  south  lay  the  land  of  heroes,  Laconia,  rough 
and  mountainous,  but  thickly  settled;  so  that  it  is  said,  at 
one  time,  to  have  contained  nearly  a  hundred  towns  or 
villages.-  It  was  watered  by  the  Eurotas,  the  clearest  and 
purest  of  all  the  Grecian  rivers,^  which,  rising  in  Arcadia, 
was  increased  by  several  smaller  streams.  Sparta  was  built 
upon  its  banks,  the  mistress  of  the  country,  without  walls, 
without  gates;  defended  only  by  its  citizens.  It  was  one  of 
the  larger  cities  of  Greece;  but,  notwithstanding  the  mar- 
ket-place, the  theatre,  and  the  various  temples  which 
Pausanias  enumerates,*  it  was  not  one  of  the  more  splendid. 
The  monuments  of  fallen  heroes  ^  constituted  the  principal 
ornament  of  the  banks  of  the  Eurotas,  which  were  then,  and 
still  are,  covered  with  laurel.^  But  all  these  monuments  have 
perished;  there  is  a  doubt  even  as  to  the  spot  where  ancient 
Sparta  was  situated.  It  was  formerly  thought  to  be  the 
modern  Misitra;  this  opinion  has  been  given  up ;  a  more 
recent  traveller  believes,  that  about  three  miles  to  the  south- 
east of  Misitra,  he  has  discovered,  in  the  ruins  of  Mogula, 
the  traces  of  the  ancient  theatre  and  some  temples.^  At  the 

'  Bartholdy.  Bruchstiicke  zur  nahern  Kenntniss  Griechenlands,  s.  239—241. 

*  Manso  has  enumerated  sixty-seven :  Sparta,  i.  2.  p.  15.  And  yet  Laconia 
was  not  much  more  extensive  than  the  territory  of  Nuremberg,  when  a  free 
city. 

'  Bartholdy.    Bruchstiicke,  &c.  p.  228. 

*  Pausan.  iii.  p.  240,  ed.  Kuhn. 

*  See  the  long  list  of  them  in  Pausanias,  p.  240,  243,  «&:c. 

*  Pouqueville.     Voyage  i.  p.  189. 

'  See  Chateaubriand.  Itineraire  de  Paris  a  Jerusalem,  i.  p.  25.  This 
traveller  was  but  one  hour  in  going  from  Misitra  to  Mogula,  by  way  of  Palaio- 
choros,  on  horseback  and  in  a  gallop.  Those  discoveries  belong  to  M.  Cha- 
teaubriand ;  he  remarks,  however,  that  others  before  him  had  supposed  Palaio- 
choros  to  be  the  site  of  ancient  Sparta.    The  great  insecurity  of  travelling  in 

B  2 


I  i-iiwiiiiiPjfy^'^^^iWi^- '  ^''fcPMSilpt*-*^ 


fc#DjS)'HH'T^' 


2 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.  r. 


Nature  herself,  in  this  land  of  such  moderate  extent, 
established  the  geographical  divisions,  separating  the  penin- 
sula of  the  Peloponnesus  from  the  main  land;  and  dividing 
the  latter  into  nearly  equal  parts,  northern  and  southern,  by 
the  chain  of  (Eta,  which  traverses  it  obliquely.  In  every  di- 
rection hills  interchange  with  valleys  and  fruitful  plains;  and 
though  in  its  narrow  compass  no  large  rivers  are  found,  (the 
Peneus  and  Achelous  are  the  only  considerable  ones,)  its 
extensive  coasts,  abundantly  provided  with  bays,  landing- 
places,  and  natural  harbours,  afford  more  than  an  equivalent. 

The  peninsula  of  Pelops,  so  called  in  honour  of  Pelops, 
who,  according  to  the  tradition,  introduced,  not  war,  but  the 
gifts  of  peace  from  Asia  Minor,  is  about  equal  in  extent  to 
Sicily,  and  forms  the  southernmost  district.^  It  consists  of  a 
central  high  ridge  of  hills,  which  sends  out  several  branches, 
and  some  as  far  as  the  sea;  but  between  these  branches  there 
are  fruitful  plains  well  watered  by  an  abundance  of  streams, 
which  pour  from  the  mountains  in  every  direction.  This 
high  inland  district,  no  where  touching  the  sea,  is  the  far- 
famed  Arcadia  of  poetical  tradition.  Its  highest  ridge,  Mount 
Cyllene,  rises,  according  to  Strabo,  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
stadia  above  the  sea.^  Nature  has  destined  this  country  for 
pastoral  life.  "  The  pastures  and  meadows  in  summer  are 
always  green  and  unscorched ;  for  the  shade  and  moisture 
preserve  them.  The  country  has  an  appearance  similar  to 
that  of  Switzerland,  and  the  Arcadians  in  some  measure 
resemble  the  inhabitants  of  the  Alps.  They  possessed  a  love 
of  freedom  and  yet  a  love  of  money;  for  wherever  there  was 
money,  you  might  see  Arcadian  hirelings.  But  it  is  chiefly 
the  western  part  of  Arcadia  (where  Pan  invented  the  shep- 
herd's flute)  which  deserves  the  name  of  a  pastoral  country. 
Innumerable  brooks,  one  more  delightful  than  the  other, 
sometimes  rushing  impetuously  and  sometimes  gently  mur- 
muring, pour  themselves  down  the  mountains.  Vegetation 
IS  rich  and  magnificent;  every  where  freshness  and  coolness 
are  found.  One  flock  of  sheep  succeeds  another,  till  the 
rugged  Taygetus  is  approached ;  where  numerous  herds  of 

•  See  the  map  of  the  Peloponnesus  by  Professor  C.  O.  Miiller,  on  which  the 
mountains  as  well  as  the  different  districts  are_given  with  critical  exactness. 

Mrabo,  1.  vni.  p.  595,  ed.  Casaub.  I707.  .The  indefinite  nature  of  the  ac- 
count shows  how  uncertain  it  is. 


GEOGRAPHICAL   VIEW    OF    GREECE.  O 

goats  interchange  with  them."  ^  The  inhabitants  of  Arcadia, 
devoted  to  the  pastoral  life,  preferred  therefore  for  a  long 
time  to  dwell  in  the  open  country  rather  than  in  cities;  and 
when  some  of  these,  particularly  Tegea  and  Mantinea,  be- 
came considerable,  the  contests  between  them  destroyed  the 
peace  and  liberties  of  the  people.  The  shepherd  life  among 
the  Greeks,  although  much  ornamented  by  the  poets,  betrays 
its  origin  in  this;  that  it  arose  among  a  people,  who  did  not 
wander  like  nomades,  but  had  fixed  abodes. 

Round  Arcadia  lay  seven  districts,  almost  all  of  which 
were  well  watered  by  streams,  that  descended  from  its  high- 
lands. In  the  south  lay  the  land  of  heroes,  Laconia,  rough 
and  mountainous,  but  thickly  settled;  so  that  it  is  said,  at 
one  time,  to  have  contained  nearly  a  hundred  towns  or 
villages.^  It  was  watered  by  the  Eurotas,  the  clearest  and 
purest  of  all  the  Grecian  rivers,^  which,  rising  in  Arcadia, 
was  increased  by  several  smaller  streams.  Sparta  was  built 
upon  its  banks,  the  mistress  of  the  country,  without  walls, 
without  gates;  defended  only  by  its  citizens.  It  was  one  of 
the  larger  cities  of  Greece;  but,  notwithstanding  the  mar- 
ket-place, the  theatre,  and  the  various  temples  which 
Pausanias  enumerates,*  it  was  not  one  of  the  more  splendid. 
The  monuments  of  fallen  heroes  ^  constituted  the  principal 
ornament  of  the  banks  of  the  Eurotas,  which  were  then,  and 
still  are,  covered  with  laurel.^  But  all  these  monuments  have 
perished;  there  is  a  doubt  even  as  to  the  spot  where  ancient 
Sparta  was  situated.  It  was  formerly  thought  to  be  the 
modern  Misitra;  this  opinion  has  been  given  up;  a  more 
recent  traveller  believes,  that  about  three  miles  to  the  south- 
east of  Misitra,  he  has  discovered,  in  the  ruins  of  Mogula, 
the  traces  of  the  ancient  theatre  and  some  temples.^  At  the 

'  Bartholdy.  Bruchstiicke  zurnahem  Kenntniss  Griechenlands,  s.239 — ^241. 

*  Manso  has  enumerated  sixty-seven:  Sparta,  i.  2.  p.  15.  And  yet  Laconia 
was  not  much  more  extensive  than  the  territory  of  Nuremberg,  when  a  free 
city. 

'  Bartholdy.     Bruchstiicke,  &c.  p.  228. 

*  Pausan.  iii.  p.  240,  ed.  Kuhn. 

'  See  the  long  list  of  them  in  Pausanias,  p.  240,  243,  &c. 

'  Pouqueville.     Voyage  i.  p.  189. 

'  See  Chateaubriand.  Itin^raire  de  Paris  k  Jerusalem,  i.  p.  25.  This 
traveller  was  but  one  hour  in  going  from  Misitra  to  Mogula,  by  way  of  Palaio- 
choros,  on  horseback  and  in  a  gallop.  Those  discoveries  belong  to  M.  Cha- 
teaubriand ;  he  remarks,  however,  that  others  before  him  had  supposed  Palaio- 
choros  to  be  the  site  of  ancient  Sparta.    The  great  insecurity  of  travelling  in 

B  2 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW    OF    GREECE. 


5 


distance  of  four  miles  layAmyclae,  celebrated  for  the  oracle  of 
Apollo,  of  whose  sanctuary  not  a  trace  is  now  visible ;  and  a 
road  of  twenty  miles  led  from  Sparta  to  Gythium,  its  harbour 
in  that  period  of  its  histor)%  when,  mistaking  its  true  policy, 
it  built  a  fleet.  On  the  west  and  north,  Laconia  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  lofty  Taygetus,  which  separated  it  from  the 
fruitful  plains  of  Messenia.  This  country  was  soon  over- 
powered by  Sparta,'  which,  having  thus  doubled  its  territory, 
easily  became  the  largest  of  all  the  Grecian  cities.  But  after 
a  long  and  quiet  possession,  Messenia  was  finally  avenged  ; 
when  Epaminondas,  its  restorer,  crushed  the  power  of 
humbled  Sparta. 

A  neck  of  land,  called  Argolis,  from  its  capital  city 
Argos,  extends  in  a  south-easterly  direction  from  Arcadia 
forty-eight  miles  into  the  sea,  where  it  terminates  in  the 
promontory  of  Scillaeum.  Many  and  great  recollections 
recall  this  country  to  memory  from  the  heroic  age  ;  and  the 
remains  of  the  most  ancient  style  of  architecture,  the  Cy- 
clopic  walls,  which  are  still  standing  on  the  sites  of  the  west 
towns,  make  that  age  present  even  now.  Here  lay  Tiryns, 
whence  Hercules  departed  to  enter  on  his  labours,  here  was 
Mycenae,  the  country  of  Agamemnon,  the  most  powerful 
and  most  unhappy  of  kings ;  here  was  Nemea,  celebrated 
for  its  games  instituted  in  honour  of  Neptune.  But  the  glory 
of  its  earliest  times  does  not  seem  to  have  animated  Argos. 
No  Themistocles,  no  Agesilaus  was  ever  counted  among  its 
citizens ;  and,  though  it  possessed  a  territory  of  no  inconsi- 
derable extent,  holding  in  subjection  the  larger  western 
moiety  of  the  district,  while  Epidaurus  and  Traezene  re- 
mained independent ; — still  it  never  assumed  a  rank  among 
the  first  of  the  Grecian  states,  but  was  rather  the  sport  of 
foreign  policy. 

In  the  west  of  the  Peloponnesus  lay  Elis,  the  holy  land. 
Its  length  from  south  to  north,  if  the  small  southern  district 

the  Peloponnesus  increases  the  difficulty  of  the  investigation ;  yet  by  the  work 
of  Sir  William  Gell,  in  his  Itinerary  of  the  Morea,  being  a  description  of  the 
Routes  of  that  peninsula,  London,  1817,  with  a  map,  the  topography  of  the 
peninsula  has  received  sufficient  illustrations.  The  distances  given  in  the 
text  rest  on  his  authority.  He  makes  the  distance  from  Misitra  or  Mistra  to 
Sparta  to  be  52  minutes.  The  city  lay  on  hills,  and  appears  to  have  been 
about  a  mile  long. — Gell,  p.  222. 
'  In  the  second  Mcssenian  war,  which  ended  668  years  before  Christ. 


II 


of  Triphylia  be  reckoned,  amounted  to  forty-eight  miles ;  its 
breadth  in  the  broadest  part  was  not  more  than  half  as  much. 
Several  rivers,  which  had  their  rise  in  the  Arcadian  moun- 
tains, watered  its  fruitful  plains.     Among  them  the  Alpheus 
was  the  largest  and  the  most  famous ;  for  the  Olympic  games 
were  celebrated  on  its  banks.     Its  fountains  were  not  far 
distant  from  those  of  the  Eurotas  ;  and  as  the  latter,  taking 
a  southerly  direction,  flowed  through  the  land  of  war,  the 
former,  in  a  westerly  one,  passed  through  the  land  of  peace. 
For  here,  in  the  country  sacred  to  Jove,  where  the  nation  of 
the  Hellenes,  assembling  in  festive  pomp,  saluted  each  other 
as  one  people,  no  bloody  feuds  were  suffered  to  profane  the 
soil.     Armies  were  indeed  permitted  to  pass  through  the 
consecrated  land  ;  but  they  were  first  deprived  of  their  arms, 
which  they  did  not  again  receive  till  they  left  it.^     This  ge- 
neral rule  was  afterwards  limited  in  its  application  to  the 
time  of  the  Olympian  games ;  but  even  during  the  following 
wars,  the  treasures  of  art  in  the  sanctuaries  of  Elis  remained 
uninjured ;    and  under  their  protection  it  long  enjoyed  a 

beneficent  peace.  . 

The  country  of  Elis  embraced  three  divisions.  1  he  woody 
Triphylia  was  in  the  south,  and  contained  that  Pylus,  which, 
according  to  the  judgment  of  Strabo,  could  lay  a  better  claim 
than  either  of  the  other  two  towns  of  the  same  name,  to 
have  been  the  country  ruled  by  Nestor.^  The  northern  di- 
vision was  Elis,  a  plain  enclosed  by  the  rough  mountains 
Pholoe  and  Scollis,  both  spurs  from  the  Arcadian  Eryman- 
thus,  and  watered  by  the  Selleis  and  the  Elian  Peneus,  on 
whose  banks  lay  the  city  that  gave  a  name  to  the  whole  re- 
gion, over  which  it  also  exercised  supreme  authority  ;  for 
the  district  of  the  Elians,  embracing  both  Pisatis  and  Tri- 
phylia, extended  to  the  borders  of  Messenia."     The  middle 

»  Strabo,  viii.  p.  247.  Phidon  of  Argos  was  the  first,  who  violated  this 
sanctity  by  an  invasion,  to  appropriate  to  himself  the  holding  of  the  Olympic 
games  (about  900  years  before  Christ);  yet  this  occupation  must  have  been 
transient,  for  when  EUs  was  built,  (about  447  years  before  Chnst,)  that  city, 
even  then  relying  on  this  sanctity,  was  surrounded  by  no  walls.- strabo,  l.c. 
It  was  not  till  after  the  Peloponnesian  war,  that  this  and  so  many  other  reli- 
gious ideas  appear  to  have  died  away.  .,     ^  ,  •     fi,^^ 

2  Strabo,  viii.  p.  242.    The  two  other  towns  were  situated,  one  m  norttiem 

Elis,  the  other  in  Messenia.  ,        ,  .  ,    ..  *    v    «^fo„^„^ 

3  Strabo,  viii.  p.  247,  relates  the  manner  in  which  it  came  to  be  extended 
thus  far  by  the  assistance  of  the  Spartans  in  the  Messeman  war. 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


territory,  Pisatis,  so  called  from  the  city  Pisa,  was  the  most 
important  of  all,  for  it  contained  Olympia.  Two  roads  from 
Elis  led  thither,  one  nearer  the  sea  through  the  plain,  another 
through  the  mountains  ;  the  distance  was  from  twenty-eight 
to  thirty-two  miles.'  The  name  Olympia  designated  the 
country  near  the  city  Pisa,^  (which  even  in  Strabo's  time 
was  no  longer  in  existence,)  where  every  five  years  those 
games  were  celebrated,  which  the  Elians  established  after 
the  subjugation  of  the  Pisans,  and  at  which  they  presided. 
If  this  privilege  gave  to  them,  as  it  were,  all  their  import- 
ance in  the  eyes  of  the  Greeks  ;  if  their  country  thus  became 
the  common  centre ;  if  it  was  the  first  in  Greece  with  respect 
to  works  of  art  and  perhaps  to  wealth  ;  if  their  safety,  their 
prosperity,  their  fame,  and  in  some  measure  their  existence 
as  an  independent  state,  were  connected  with  the  temple  of 
Jupiter  Olympius  and  its  festivals ; — need  we  be  astonished, 
if  no  sacrifice  seemed  to  them  too  great,  by  which  the  glory 
of  Olympia  was  to  be  increased  ?  Here  on  the  banks  of  the 
Alpheus  stood  the  sacred  grove,  called  Altis,  of  olive  and 
plane  trees,  surrounded  by  an  enclosure  ;  a  sanctuary  of  the 
arts,  such  as  the  world  has  never  since  beheld.  For  what 
are  all  our  cabinets  and  museums,  compared  with  this  one 
spot  ?  Its  centre  was  occupied  by  the  national  temple  of 
the  Hellenes,  the  temple  of  Olympian  Jove,^  in  which  w^as 
the  colossal  statue  of  that  god,  the  masterpiece  of  Phidias. 
No  other  work  of  art  in  antiquity  was  so  generally  acknow- 
ledged to  have  been  the  first,  even  whilst  all  other  inventions 
of  Grecian  genius  were  still  uninjured  ;  and  need  we  hesitate 
to  regard  it  as  the  first  of  all  the  works  of  art,  of  which  we 
have  any  knowledge  ?  Besides  this  temple,  the  grove  con- 
tained that  of  Juno  Lucina,  the  theatre  and  the  prytaneum ; 
in  front  of  it,  or  perhaps  within  its  precincts/  was  the  stadium 

^  According  to  Strabo,  1.  c.  300  stadia. 

*  Barthelemy  is  not  strictly  accurate,  when  he  calls  (iv.  p.  207)  Pisa  and 
Olympia  one  city.     Pisa  was  but  six  stadia  (not  quite  a  mile)  from  the  temple ; 

'  Schol.  Find,  ad  01.  x.  55.      I  have  never  met  with  any  mention  of  a  city 
Olympia. 

^  The  temple  of  Jupiter  Olympius,  built  by  the  Elians  in  the  age  of  Pericles, 
had  nearly  the  same  dimensions  as  the  Parthenon  at  Athens ;  230  feet  in 
length,  95  in  breadth,  and  68  in  height.  The  colossal  statue  of  Jupiter,  re- 
presented as  seated,  nearly  touched  the  roof  of  the  temple,  as  Strabo  relates ; 
and  is  said  to  have  been  sixty  feet  high.  Compare :  Volkel  iiber  den  grossen 
Tempel  und  die  Statue  des  Jupiters  in  Olympia,  1794. 

*  According  to  Strabo,  in  the  Altis :  Barthelemy  says,  in  front  of  it.    W^e 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW  OF  GREECE.  7 

together  with  the  race-ground,  or  hippodromus.  The  whole 
forest  was  filled  with  monuments  and  statues,  erected  in 
honour  of  gods,  heroes,  and  conquerors.  Pausanias  men- 
tions more  than  two  hundred  and  thirty  statues ;  of  Jupiter 
alone  he  describes  twenty-three,^  and  these  were,  for  the  most 
part,  works  of  the  first  artists;  for  how  could  inferiority  gain 
admittance,  where  even  mediocrity  became  despicable  ? 
Pliny  estimates  the  whole  number  of  these  statues  in  his 
time,  at  three  thousand.^  To  this  must  be  added  the  trea- 
suries (^fjffavpoi),  which  the  piety  or  the  vanity  of  so  many 
cities,  enumerated  by  Pausanias,^  had  established  by  their 
votive  presents.  It  was  with  a  just  pride,  that  the  Grecian 
departed  from  Olympia.  He  could  say  to  himself  with  truth, 
that  he  had  seen  the  noblest  objects  on  earth,  and  that  these 
were  not  the  works  of  foreigners,  nor  the  pillage  of  foreign 
lands,  but  at  once  the  creation  and  the  property  of  his  own 
nation. 

The  territory  of  Elis  was  indebted  for  its  repose  to  the 
protection  of  the  gods ;  Achaia,  the  country  which  bounded 
it  on  the  north,  to  the  wisdom  of  men.  Having  once  been 
inhabited  by  lonians,  this  maritime  country  had  borne  the 
name  of  Ionia;  which  was  afterwards  applied  exclusively  to 
the  neighbouring  sea  on  the  west  side  of  Greece.  But  in 
the  confusion  produced  by  the  general  emigration  of  the 
Dorians,  it  exchanged  its  ancient  inhabitants  for  Achaeans.* 
Achaia,  watered  by  a  multitude  of  mountain  streams,  which 
descended  from  the  high  ridges  of  Arcadia,  belonged,  with 
respect  to  its  extent,  fruitfulness,  and  population,  to  the 
middHng  countries  of  Greece.  The  character  of  its  inhabit- 
ants was  analogous.  They  never  aspired  after  aggrandize- 
ment, or  influence  abroad.     They  were  not  made  illustrious 

are  still  much  in  the  dark  respecting  the  situation  of  ancient  Olympia.  What 
Chandler  says  is  unimportant.  The  only  modern  traveller,  who  has  made 
accurate  investigations,  is  M.  Fauvel.  But  I  am  acquainted  with  his  commu- 
nication to  the  National  Institute,  Precis  de  ses  voyages  dans  le  continent  de  la 
Grece^  etc.,  only  from  the  short  notice  contained  in  Millin,  Magazin  Encyclop. 
1802,  T.  II.  He  found,  it  is  there  said,  not  only  the  remains  of  the  temple 
of  Jupiter,  but  also  of  the  hippodromus. 

^  Pausanias,  v.  p.  434,  etc.  has  enumerated  and  described  that  number. 
Among  them  there  was  a  colossus  of  bronze,  27  feet  high. 

^  Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.  xxxiv.  17.  There  were  as  many  at  Athens,  Delphi,  and 
Rhodes. 

'  Pans.  vi.  p.  497,  etc. 

*  As  early  as  1100  before  Christ. 


8 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


by  great  generals  or  great  poets.  But  they  possessed  good 
laws.  Twelve  cities/  each  with  a  small  territory,  independ- 
ent of  each  other  in  the  management  of  their  internal 
affairs,  formed  a  confederacy,  which,  under  the  name  of  the 
Achaean  league,  could  trace  its  origin  to  remote  antiquity. 
A  perfect  equality  was  its  fundamental  principle;  no  prece- 
dence of  rank  or  power  was  to  be  usurped  by  any  single 
city.  What  an  example  for  the  other  parts  of  Greece,  if 
they  had  been  able  or  willing  to  understand  it !  In  this 
manner  the  Achaeans  continued  for  a  long  time  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  happy  tranquillity,  having  no  share  in  the  wars  of 
their  neighbours.  Their  country  was  in  no  one's  way,  and 
attracted  no  one ;  even  during  the  Peloponnesian  war,  they 
remained  neutral.*^  The  Macedonian  supremacy  finally  dis- 
solved the  confederacy,  and  favoured  individual  tyrants,  to 
use  them  as  its  instruments.  But  the  times  were  to  come, 
when  Nemesis  should  rule.  The  Achaean  league  was  re- 
newed, and  enlarged,  and  it  became  most  dangerous  to  the 
Macedonian  rulers. 

The  small  territory  of  the  city  Sicyon  (which  afterwards 
belonged  to  the  Achaean  league)  divided  Achaia  from  that 
of  Corinth.  In  point  of  extent,  this  state  was  one  of  the 
smallest  in  Greece ;  but  the  importance  of  a  commercial 
state  does  not  depend  on  the  extent  of  its  territory.  Venice 
was  never  more  flourishing  or  more  powerful,  than  at  a  time 
when  it  did  not  possess  a  square  mile  on  the  continent. 
Wealthy  Corinth,  more  than  four  miles  in  extent,  lay  at  the 
foot  of  a  steep  and  elevated  hill,  on  which  its  citadel  was 
built.  There  was  hardly  a  stronger  fortress  in  all  Greece, 
and  perhaps  no  spot  afforded  a  more  splendid  prospect  than 
Acrocorinthus.^  Beneath  it  might  be  seen  the  busy  city  and 

'  Dyme  and  Patrse  were  the  most  important ;  Helice  was  swallowed  up  by 
ciic  sea* 

^  Thucyd.  ii.  9. 

•  \^a^^a  ^r.?^'  P;  ^**  ^^  modern  travellers,  Spon  and  Wheler  ascended  it 
m  IbTb.  Chateaubnand,  i.  36,  says,  that  the  prospect  at  the  foot  of  the  citadel 
IS  enchantmg.  If  it  is  so  now,  what  must  it  formerly  have  been?  Clarke 
( 1  ravels,  vol.  u.  §  5,  p.  745,  etc.)  describes  the  few  remaining  ruins,  and  the 
whole  country  round  Corinth ;  especially  the  isthmus.  He  too,  and  his  com- 
panions, were  refused  admittance  to  the  citadel,  yet  they  obtained  leave  to 
climb  the  cliff  on  which  it  stands ;  and  which  might  be  made  as  strong  as 
tribraltar.  They  gained  the  summit  just  at  sunset :  ''  a  more  splendid  pros- 
pect  cannot  be  found  in  Europe."  It  extended  even  to  the  Acropolis  at 
Athens.     Travels,  ii.  p.  749. 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW  OF  GREECE.  9 

its  territory,  with  its  temples,  its  theatres,  and  its  aqueducts.* 
Its  two  harbours,  Lechaeum  on  the  western  bay,  Cenchreae 
on  the  eastern,  filled  with  ships,  and  the  two  bays  themselves, 
with  the  isthmus  between  them,  were  all  in  sight.  The 
peaks  of  Helicon,  and  of  Parnassus  itself,  were  seen  at  a 
distance;  and  a  strong  eye  could  distinguish  on  the  eastern 
side  the  Acropolis  of  Athens.  What  images  and  emotions 
are  excited  by  this  prospect ! 

Beyond  the  isthmus  of  the  Peloponnesus,  which  the  Gre- 
cians, acquainted  for  a  long  time  with  no  other,  were  accus- 
tomed to  call  simply  the  Isthmus,  lay  the  tract  of  Hellas. 
Its  southern  half,  stretching  as  far  as  the  chain  of  QEta,  was 
divided  into  eight,  or,  if  Locris,  of  which  there  were  two 
parts,  be  twice  counted,  into  nine  districts;  of  these,  the  ex- 
tent was  but  small,  as  their  number  indicates.  Next  to  the 
isthmus,  on  which  may  still  be  seen  the  ruins  of  a  stadium 
and  a  theatre,^  and  that  temple  of  Neptune,  in  the  grove  of 
fir  trees,  where  all  Greece  assembled  to  celebrate  the  Isthmian 
games,  the  small  but  fruitful  territory  of  Megara  ^  began ; 
and  through  this,  along  the  high  rocky  shore,  where  the 
robber  Sciron  is  said  to  have  exercised  his  profession,  the 
road  conducted  to  the  favourite  land  of  the  gods,  to  Attica.* 

A  neck  of  land  or  peninsula,  opposite  to  that  of  Argolis, 
extends  in  a  south-easterly  direction  about  fifty-six  miles  into 
the  iEgean  Sea,  and  forms  this  country.  Where  it  is  con- 
nected with  the  main  land,  its  greatest  breadth  may  be 
twenty-four  miles;  but  it  tapers  more  and  more  to  a  point, 
till  it  ends  in  the  high  cape  of  Sunium,  on  the  summit  of 
which  the  temple  of  Minerva  announced  to  the  traveller,  as 
he  arrived  from  sea,  the  land  which  was  protected  by  the 
goddess  of  courage  and  wisdom.  It  was  not  endowed  with 
luxuriant  fruitfulness ;  it  never  produced  so  much  corn  as 
would  supply  its  own  inhabitants;  and  for  this,  neither  the 
honey  of  Hymettus,  nor  the  marble  of  the  Pentelic  moun- 
tains, nor  even  the  silver  mines  of  Laurium,  could  have 

'  Corinth  is  famous,  even  with  the  poets,  for  being  well  supplied  with  water; 
compare  Euripides  in  Strabo,  1.  c.  Pausanias  enumerates,  1.  IL  1 17,  its  many 
temples  and  aqueducts. 

*  Clarke's  Travels,  ii.  p.  752.  Even  the  sacred  grove  of  firs  still  exists, 
from  which,  according  to  Pausanias,  the  crowns  of  uie  victors  were  taken. 

*  Like  that  of  Corinth,  not  more  than  eight  miles  in  length  and  breadth. 

*  On  Attica,  see  the  critical  map  of  Professor  O.  Miiller. 


10 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW  OF  GREECE. 


11 


afforded  a  compensation.  But  the  culture  of  the  olive, 
niechanic  industry,  and  the  advantageous  use  made  of  the 
situation  of  the  country  for  the  purposes  of  commerce,  gave 
to  the  frugal  people  all  that  they  needed,  and  something 
more;  for  the  activity  of  commerce  was  shackled  by  no 
restrictive  laws.  Almost  the  whole  country  is  mountainous; 
the  mountains  are  indeed  of  a  moderate  height,  and  covered 
with  aromatic  plants,  but  they  are  stony  and  without  forests. 
Their  outlines  are,  however,  wonderfully  beautiful;  the 
waters  of  the  Ilissus,  the  Cephissus,  and  of  other  rivers,  or 
to  speak  more  accurately,  of  other  brooks,  which  stream 
from  them,  are  clear  as  crystal,  and  delicious  to  the  taste ; 
and  the  almost  constant  clearness  of  the  atmosphere,  which 
lends  very  peculiar  tints  to  the  buildings,  no  less  than  to  the 
mountains,^  opens  a  prospect  which  distance  can  hardly 
bound.  ''  For,  without  doubt,"  (says  a  modern  traveller,^) 
"  this  is  the  most  salubrious,  the  purest,  and  the  mildest 
climate  of  Greece;  as  Euripides'  has  said,  ^Our  air  is  soft 
and  mild  ;  the  frost  of  winter  is  never  severe,  nor  the  beams 
of  Phoebus  oppressive;  so  that  for  us  there  are  no  attractions 
in  the  choicest  delights  which  are  offered  by  the  fields  of 
Asia,  or  the  wealth  of  Hellas.' " 

But  where  the  mountains  open,  and  leave  room  for  plains 
of  a  moderate  extent,  the  soil  is  still  covered  by  forests  of 
ohve  trees,  of  which  the  eye  can  perceive  no  termination. 
"  More  beautiful  are  no  where  to  be  seen.  Those  of  Palermo 
or  on  the  Riviera  of  Genoa  are  hardly  to  be  compared  with 
these,  which  seem  as  it  were  immortal,  and  century  after 
century  send  forth  new  branches  and  new  shoots  with  reno- 
vated vigour."*  Formerly  they  overshadowed  the  sacred 
road,  and  the  gardens  of  the  academy;  and  if  the  goddess 
herse  f,  like  her  scholars,  has  deserted  the  soil,  she  has  at 
least  left  behind  her  for  posterity,  the  first  of  the  presents, 
which  she  made  to  her  darling  nation. 

The   traveller   from  Corinth   and  Megara,  passing  the 
isthmus  to  Attica,  reached  the  sacred  city  of  Eleusis  at  the 

i.  p.^f9/.^^  '^°'^'^'  ""^  Chateaubriand  on  this  subject.  Itmeraire  a  Jerusalem, 
^  Bartholdy,  Bruchstiicke,  etc.  p.  214. 
!  5^^¥^^^  ''^  Erechtheo,  fr.  i.  v.  15,  etc. 

ii  n  7R3  wt;  u^^^^^^^  This  account  is  confirmed  by  Clarke, 

II.  p.  783,  who  was  told  that  the  olive  trees  were  40,000  in  number 


distance  of  about  eight  miles  from  Megara.  When  the  in- 
habitants of  that  place  submitted  to  Athens,  they  reserved 
for  themselves  nothing  but  their  sanctuaries;^  and  hence 
the  mysterious  festivals  of  Ceres  continued  to  be  celebrated 
in  their  temple.  From  this  place,  the  sacred  road,  of  almost 
unvarying  breadth,  led  to  the  city  which  Pallas  protected. 

Athens  lay  in  a  plain,  which  on  the  south-west  extended 
for  about  four  miles  towards  the  sea  and  the  harbours,  but 
on  the  other  side  was  enclosed  by  mountains.  The  plain 
itself  was  interrupted  by  several  rocky  hills.  The  largest 
and  highest  of  these  supported  the  Citadel  or  Acropolis, 
which  took  its  name  from  its  founder  Cecrops;  round  this, 
the  city  was  spread  out,  especially  in  the  direction  of  the 
sea.  The  summit  of  the  hill  contained  a  level  space,  about 
eight  hundred  feet  long,  and  half  as  broad ;  which  seemed, 
as  it  were,  prepared  by  nature  to  support  those  master- 
pieces of  architecture,  which  announced  at  a  great  distance 
the  splendour  of  Athens.  The  only  road  which  led  to  it, 
conducted  to  the  Propylsea,^  with  its  two  wings,  the  temple 
of  Victory,  and  another  temple,  ornamented  with  the  pic- 
tures of  Polygnotus.  That  superb  edifice,  the  most  splen- 
did monument  which  was  erected  under  the  administration 
of  Pericles,  the  work  of  Mnesicles,  was  decorated  by  the 
admirable  sculptures  of  Phidias.^  They  formed  the  proud 
entrance  to  the  level  summit  of  the  hill,  on  which  were  the 
temples  of  the  guardian  deities  of  Athens.  On  the  left  was 
the  temple  of  Pallas,  the  protectress  of  cities,  with  the  column 
which  fell  from  heaven,  and  the  sacred  olive  tree;  and  that 
of  Neptune.^  But  on  the  right,  the  Parthenon,  the  pride  of 
Athens,  rose  above  every  thing  else,  possessing  the  colossal 
statue  of  Minerva  by  Phidias,  next  to  the  Olympian  Jupiter, 

'  Pausan.  i.  p.  92. 

^  Compare  the  sketches  and  drawings  in  Stuart's  Antiquities  of  Athens, 

^  A  part  of  these  master-pieces  has  perished.  By  robbing  the  Acropolis, 
Lord  Elrin  has  gained  a  name,  which  no  other  will  wish  to  share  with  him. 
The  sea  nas  swallowed  up  his  plunder.  The  devastation  made  by  this  modern 
Herostratus,  is  described  not  by  Chateaubriand  only,  Itiner.  i.  p.  202,  but 
also,  and  with  just  indignation,  by  his  own  countryman,  Clarke,  Travels,  ii. 
p.  483,  an  eye-witness. 

*  The  two,  forming  one  whole,  were  only  divided  by  a  partition.  Consult 
on  the  details  of  the  building:  Minervae  Poliadis  SacrsB  et  aedes  in  arce  Athe- 
narum ;  illustrata  ab  C.  Odofredo  Miiller.  Gottingae,  1820.  And  the  plan  of 
the  city  by  the  same  author,  who,  in  his  essay,  followed  a  still  extant  Attic 
inscription  j  and  in  his  plan  of  Athens  differs  widely  from  Barthelemy. 


r 


12 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW  OF  GREECE. 


13 


the  noblest  of  his  works.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  the  one 
side  was  the  Odeon,  and  the  theatre  of  Bacchus,  where  the 
tragic  contests  were  celebrated  on  the  festivals  of  the  god, 
and  those  immortal  master-pieces  were  represented,  which, 
having  remained  to  us,  double  our  regret  for  those  that  are 
lost;  on  the  other  side  was  the  Prytaneum,  where  the  chief 
magistrates  and  most  meritorious  citizens  were  honoured  by 
a  table,  provided  at  the  public  expense.  A  moderate  valley, 
Coele,  was  interposed  between  the  Acropolis  and  the  hill  on 
which  the  Areopagus  held  its  sessions;  and  between  this  and 
the  hill  of  the  Pnyx,  where  the  collected  people  was  accus- 
tomed to  decide  on  the  affairs  of  the  republic.  Here  may 
still  be  seen  the  tribune,  from  which  Pericles  and  Demos- 
thenes spoke ;  (it  is  imperishable,  since  it  was  hewn  in  the 
rock  ;)  not  long  ago  it  was  cleared  from  rubbish,  together 
with  the  four  steps  which  led  to  it.^ 

If  any  desire  a  more  copious  enumeration  of  the  temples, 
the  halls,  and  the  works  of  art,  which  decorated  the  city  of 
Pallas,  they  may  find  it  in  Pausanias.     Even  in  his  time, 
how  much,  if  not  the  larger  part,  yet  the  best,  had  been  re- 
moved ;  how  much  had  been  injured  and  destroyed  in  the 
wars ;  and  yet  when  we  read  what  was  still  there,  we  natu- 
rally ask  with  respect  to  Athens,  (as  with  respect  to  so  many 
other  Grecian  cities,)  where  could  all  this  have  found  room  ? 
The  whole  country  round  Athens,  particularly  the  long  road 
to  the  Piraeeus,  was  ornamented  with  monuments  of  all  kinds, 
especially   with   the  tombs   of  great   poets,  warriors,  and 
statesmen,    who   did   not  often   remain   after   death  with- 
out expressions  of  public  gratitude,  which  were  given  so 
much  the  less  frequently  during  their  lives.     A  double  wall, 
called  the  Northern  and  Southern,  enclosed  the  road,  which 
was  nearly  four  miles  long,  on  both  sides,  and  embraced  the 
two  harbours  of  Piraeeus  and  Phalereus.    This  wall,  designed 
and  executed  by  Themistocles,  was  one  of  the  most  import- 
ant works  of  the  Athenians.     It  was  forty  Grecian  ells  in 
height,  built  entirely  of  freestone,  and  so  broad,  that  two 
baggage-waggons  could  pass  each  other.     The  Pirseeus,  to 
which  it  led,  formed  (as  did  Phalerse)  a  city  by  itself,  with 
its  own  public  squares,  temples,  market-places,  and  its  en- 

'  Chateaubriand,  Itineraire,  vol.  i.  p.  184 ;  and  Clarke,  Travels,  il  2,  p.  450. 


livening  commercial  crowd ;  and  it  seemed  perhaps  even 
more  animated  than  Athens.'  Its  harbour,  well  provided 
with  docks  and  magazines,  was  spacious  enough  to  hold  in 
its  three  divisions  four  hundred  triremes ;  whilst  the  Phale- 
reus  and  Munychius  could  each  accommodate  only  about 
fifty.*  All  three  were  formed  naturally  by  the  bays  of  the 
coast ;  but  the  Piraeeus  excelled  the  others  not  only  in  extent, 
but  also  in  security. 

The  plain  of  Athens  was  surrounded  on  three  sides  by 
mountains,   which  formed  its  limits  within  no  very  great 
distance  of  the  city.     The  prospect  from  the  Acropolis  and 
the  Parthenon  commanded  on  the  east  the  two  peaks  of  Hy- 
mettus  ;  on  the  north,  Pentelicus  with  its  quarries  of  marble  ; 
to  the  north-west,  the  Cithaeron  was  seen  at  a  great  distance, 
rising  above  the  smaller  mountains ;  and  Laurium,  rich  in 
silver  mines,  lay  to  the  south-east  almost  at  the  end  of  the 
peninsula  ;  but  towards  the  south-west,  the  eye  could  freely 
range  over  the  harbours  and  the  Saronic  bay,  with  the  is- 
lands of  Salamis  and  ^gina,  as  far  as  the  lofty  citadel  of 
Corinth.^     Many  of  the  chief  places  of  the  cantons  (a^y/tot) 
into  which  Attica  was  divided,  (and  of  these  there  were  more 
than  one  hundred  and  seventy,)  might  also  be  seen  ;  and  the 
situation  was  distinct  even  of  the  towns,  which  the  mountains 
covered.     No  one  of  these  was  important  as  a  city,  and  yet 
there  were  few  which  had  not  something  worthy  of  observa- 
tion, statues,  altars,  and  temples;  for  to  whatever  part  of  his 
country  the  Athenian  strayed,  he  needed  to  behold  something 
which  might  remind  him  that  he  was  in  Attica.     There 
were  many,  of  which  the  name  alone  awakened  proud  re- 
collections ;  and  no  one  was  farther  than  a  day's  journey 
from  Athens.     It  required  but  about  five  hours  to  reach 
the  long  but  narrow  plain*  of  Marathon,  on  the  opposite 
coast  of  Attica.     It  was  twenty-four  miles  to  Sunium,  which 

*  The  Piraeeus  was  sometimes  reckoned  as  a  part  of  Athens ;  and  this  ex- 
plains how  it  was  possible  to  say,  that  the  city  was  two  hundred  stadia,  or 
twenty  miles,  in  circumference.     Dio  Chrysost.  Or.  vi. 

*  The  rich  compilations  of  Meursius  on  the  Piraeeus,  no  less  than  on 
Athens,  the  AcropoHs,  the  Ceramicus,  etc.  (Gronov.  Thes.  Ant.  Gr.  vol.  ii. 
iii.)  contain  almost  all  the  passages  of  the  ancients  respecting  them. 

'  Chateaubriand,  Itineraire,  etc.  i.  p.  206. 

*  Chandler's  Travels,  p.  163.  Clarke,  Plates  ii.  2.  PL  4.  5.,  gives  not 
only  a  description,  but  a  map  and  view  of  the  country. 


u 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


lay  at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  peninsula,  and  about 
twenty  to  the  borders  of  Bceotia. 

This  country,  so  frequently  enveloped  in  mists,  lay  to  the 
north-west  of  Attica,  and  exhibited,  in  almost  every  respect, 
a  different  character.     Boeotia  was  shut  in  by  the  chain  of 
Helicon,  Cithseron,  Parnassus,  and,  towards  the  sea,  Ptoiis  ; 
these  enclosed  a  large  plain,  constituting  the  chief  part  of 
the  country.     Numerous  rivers,  of  which  the  Cephissus  was 
the  most  important,^  descending  from  the  heights,  had  pro- 
bably stagnated  for  a  long  time,  and  had  formed  lakes,  of 
which  Copais  is  the  largest.     This  lake  must  have  subterra- 
neous outlets ;    for  while  the  canals,    through   which   its 
waters  were  anciently  distributed,  have  fallen  into  decay,  it 
has  so  far  decreased  in  modern  times,  that  it  is  now  almost 
dried  to  a  swamp.^     But  these  same  rivers  appear  to  have 
formed  the  soil  of  Boeotia,  which  is  among  the  most  fruitful 
in  Greece.     Boeotia  was  also  perhaps  the  most  thickly  set- 
tled part  of  Greece ;    for  no  other  could  show  an  equal 
number  of  important  cities.     The  names  of  almost  all  of 
them  are  frequently  mentioned  in  history ;    for  it  was  the 
will  of  destiny,  that  the  fate  of  Greece  should  often  be  de- 
cided in  Boeotia.     Its  freedom  was  won  at  Plataeae,  and  lost 
at  Chaeronea ;   the  Spartans  conquered  at  Tanagra,  and  at 
Leuctra  their  power  was  crushed  for  ever.     Thebes  with  its 
seven  gates,  (more  distinguished   for  its   extent   than   its 
buildings,)  esteemed  itself  the  head  of  the  Boeotian  cities, 
although  it  was  not  acknowledged  as  such  by  all.      This 
usurpation  by  Thebes  of  a  supremacy  over  Boeotia,  was  of 
decisive  importance  in  several  periods  of  Grecian  history. 

Boeotia  was  divided  by  Mount  Cithseron  from  Attica,  and 
by  Parnassus  from  Phocis.  This  district,  of  moderate  size 
and  irregular  shape,  extended  to  the  south  along  the  bay  of 
Corinth  ;  and  was  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  chain  of 
(Eta.  Here  are  the  passes  which  lead  from  Boeotia  to 
Attica.    Of  these  the  most  important  is  near  the  city  Elatea, 

»  Distinct  from  the  Cephissus  in  Attica. 

\  ^^^^}^l^y^  Bruchstiicke,  etc.  p.  230.  On  the  ancient  subterraneous 
outlets  of  this  lake,  which  form  some  of  the  most  curious  remains  of  the  ear- 
liest hydrauhc  works,  and  on  the  geography  and  earliest  history  of  Boeotia, 
a  clearer  hght  is  spread  in  C.  0.  MiiUer's  histories  of  the  Hellenic  Tribes  and 
Cities,  published  in  1820,  with  a  map. 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW  OF  GREECE. 


15 


and  on  that  account  was  early  occupied  by  Philip  on  his  se-^ 
cond  invasion  of  Greece.  The  desolate  mountain  of  Parnassus, 
once  associated  with  the  fame  of  Phocis,  presents  to  the  tra- 
veller of  our  times  nothing  but  recollections.  Delphi  lay 
on  the  south  side  of  it,  overshadowed  by  its  double  peak  ; 
and  not  far  above  the  city  was  the  temple,  the  oracle  of 
Apollo.  Here  the  masterpieces  of  art  were  displayed  in 
countless  abundance  under  the  protection  of  the  god ;  to- 
gether with  the  costly  and  consecrated  offerings  of  nations, 
cities,^  and  kings.  Here,  in  the  Amphictyonic  council,  still 
more  costly  treasures,  the  first  maxims  of  the  laws  of  na- 
tions, were  matured  by  the  Greeks.  Hither  on  the  festival 
days,  when  the  great  games  of  the  Pythian  deity  recurred, 
(games  surpassed  only  by  those  of  Olympia,)  pilgrims  and 
spectators  poured  in  throngs  ;  here  at  the  Castalian  fountain 
the  songs  of  the  poets  resounded  in  solemn  rivalship  ;  and, 
more  exciting  than  all,  the  acclamations  of  the  multitude. 

Of  all  this  not  a  vestige  remains.  Not  even  ruins  have 
been  spared  to  us  by  time.  Only  one  monument  of  doubtful 
character  seems  to  designate  the  spot,  where  (Edipus  slew 
his  father  Laius  ;  and  whilst  every  vestige  of  greatness  and 
glory  has  vanished,  nothing  but  the  memory  of  a  crime  is 
perpetuated.^ 

Phocis  and  Mount  Parnassus  separate  the  two  parts  of 
Locris.  The  eastern  part,  inhabited  by  the  two  tribes  which 
took  their  names  from  the  city  Opus  and  Mount  Cnemis,^ 
lies  along  the  Euripus,  or  the  long  strait,  which  divides  the 
island  Euboea  from  Boeotia ;  and  would  have  almost  nothing 
to  show,  that  is  worthy  of  commemoration,  were  it  not  that 
the  inseparable  names  of  Thermopylae  and  Leonidas  pro- 
duce an  emotion  in  every  noble  mind.  "  Here  the  long 
heroic  file  of  three  hundred  Spartans  takes  precedence  of 
others,  as  it  moves  through  the  gate  of  eternity."  *  "  At 
Thermopylae,"  says  Herodotus,^  ''  a  steep  and  inacessible 

*  Many  of  them  had,  as  at  Olympia,  storehouses  of  their  own.  Pliny,  xxxiv. 
17»  estimates  the  number  of  statues  at  Delphi,  as  at  Olympia  and  Athens,  to 
have  been  even  in  his  time  3000. 

*  Bartholdy,  Bruchstiicke,  p.  251.  Compare  the  view  in  Clarke,  Plates 
ii.  2.  PI.  10,  11. 

'  Locri,  Opuntii,  and  Epicnemidii. 

*  This  grave  is  still  shown.  See  the  view  of  it  and  of  the  country,  in 
Clarke,  pi.  13.  *  Herod,  vii.  176. 


16 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


mountain  rises  on  the  west  side  in  the  direction  of  (Eta ; 
but  on  the  east  side  of  the  road  are  the  sea  and  marshes.  In 
the  pass  there  are  warm  fountains,  near  which  stands  an 
altar  to  Hercules.  On  going  from  Trachin  to  Hellas,  the 
road  is  but  half  a  plethrum  (fifty  feet)  wide,  yet  the  narrow- 
est place  is  not  there ;  but  just  in  front  and  back  of  Ther- 
mopylae, where  there  is  room  for  but  one  carriage."  Thus 
Thermopylae  was  considered  as  the  only  road,  by  which  an 
army  could  pass  from  Thessaly  into  Hellas,  for  nothing  more 
than  a  footpath  ran  across  the  mountains  ;  and  Thermopylae, 
not  only  during  the  wars  with  Persia,  but  also  in  the  age  of 
Philip,  was  considered  the  gate  of  Greece. 

The  western  part  of  Locris,  on  the  bay  of  Corinth,  inha- 
bited by  the  Ozolae,  was  greater  in  extent,  but  possessed 
fewer  remarkable  objects.  Yet  its  harbour  Naupactus  has 
preserved  its  importance,  while  so  many  of  the  most  cele- 
brated cities  have  become  insignificant.  It  is  now  called 
Lepanto,  and  is  perhaps  the  only  town  of  which  the  modern 
name  is  more  harmonious  than  the  ancient. 

The  western  parts  of  Hellas,  rough  iEtolia  and  woody 
Acarnania,  are  indeed  among  the  largest  districts,  but  are 
so  inferior  to  the  rest  in  fame,  that  the  historian  can  do  little 
more  than  name  them.     Nature  was  here  neither  less  sub- 
lime nor  less  munificent ;   both  were  situated  on  the  largest 
of  the  Grecian  rivers,  the  Achelous,  which  flowed  between 
them  ;  both  were  inhabited  by  descendants  of  the  Hellenes  ; 
both  were  once  celebrated  for  heroes ;  and  yet  the  ^tolians 
and  the  Acamanians  remained  barbarians,  after  the  Athe- 
nians had  become  the  instructors  of  the  world. — How  diflS- 
cult  it  is  to  comprehend  the  history  of  the  culture  of  nations  ! 
The  chain  of  CEta,  which  farther  west  receives  the  name 
of  Othrys,  and  at  last  of  Pindus,  and  taking  a  northerly 
direction,  is  connected  with  the  mountains  of  Macedonia, 
divides   the   central   part   of  Greece   from   the   northern. 
Thessaly,  the  largest  of  all  the  Grecian  provinces,  (though 
its  extent  cannot  be  given  with  accuracy,  for  its  boundary 
on  the  north  was  never  defined,)  forms  the  eastern,  and 
Epirus  the  western  part  of  this  district.     There  is  hardly 
any  other  in  Greece,  for  which  nature  seems  to  have  done 
so  niuch  d6  iui  Thessaly.     The  mountains  which  have  been 
mentioned,  surrounded  it  on  three  sides ;    while  the  peaks 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW  OF  GREECE. 


17 


of  Ossa  and  of  Olympus  rose  above  them  on  the  east  along 
the  coasts  of  the  ^Egean  Sea.  Thessaly  can  with  justice  be 
called  the  land  of  the  Peneus ;  which,  descending  from 
Pindus,  flowed  through  it  from  west  to  east.  A  multitude 
of  tributary  streams  poured  from  the  north  and  the  south 
into  this  river.  The  traditions  of  the  ancients  related,^  that 
it  had  stagnated  for  centuries,  till  an  earthquake  divided 
Olympus  and  Ossa,^  and  opened  for  it  a  passage  to  the 
Mgean  Sea  through  the  delicious  vale  of  Tempe.^  Thus 
the  plain  of  Thessaly  arose  from  the  floods,  possessed  of  a 
soil  which  they  had  long  been  fertilizing.  No  other  district 
had  so  extensive  an  internal  navigation  ;  which,  with  a  little 
assistance  from  art,  might  have  been  carried  to  all  its  parts. 
Its  fruitful  soil  was  fitted  alike  for  pasturing  and  the  culti- 
vation of  corn  ;  its  coasts,  especially  the  bay  of  Pagasa,* 
aflforded  the  best  harbours  for  shipping;  nature  seemed 
hardly  to  have  left  a  wish  ungratified.  It  was  in  Thessaly, 
that  the  tribe  of  the  Hellenes,  according  to  the  tradition, 
first  applied  themselves  to  agriculture ;  and  thence  its  se- 
veral branches  spread  over  the  more  southern  lands.  Al- 
most all  the  names  of  its  towns,  as  Pelasgiotis  and  Thessa- 
liotis,  recall  some  association  connected  with  the  primitive 
history  and  heroic  age  of  the  nation.  The  Doric  tribe  found 
in  Estiaeotis  its  oldest  dwelling-places ;  and  who  has  ever 
heard  the  name  of  Phthiotis,  without  remembering  the  hero 
of  the  Iliad,  the  great  Pelides  ?  Thessaly  was  always  well 
inhabited  and  rich  in  cities.  In  the  interior  the  most  cele- 
brated were  Larissa,  situated  in  the  midst  of  the  noble  plain, 
and  Pherae ;  lolcos,  whence  the  Argonauts  embarked,  and 
Magnesia,  were  on  the  sea-coast.  But  it  was  perhaps  the 
very  fertility  of  the  soil,  which  ruined  the  Thessalians. 
They  rioted  in  sensual  enjoyments ;  they  were  celebrated 
for  banquets,  and  not  for  works  of  genius ;    and  although 

*  Herod,  viii.  6.     Strab.  ix.  p.  296. 

'  To  commemorate  the  event,  a  festival  was  instituted  in  Thessaly,  called 
the  Peloria,  which  festival  seems  to  have  been  continued  in  a  Christian  one. 
Bartholdy,  p.  137. 

*  "  Tempe  forms,  as  it  were,  a  triple  valley,  which  is  broad  at  the  entrance 
and  at  the  end,  but  very  narrow  in  tne  middle.",  These  are  the  words  of  Bar- 
tholdy, who,  of  all  modern  travellers,  has  given  us  the  most  accurate  account 
of  Tempe,  from  his  Own  observation.     Bruchstiicke,  etc.,  p.  112,  etc. 

*  Pagasa  itself,  (afterwards  called  Demetrias,)  lolcos,  and  Magnesia. 

c 


18 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


Olympus,  the  mountain  of  the  gods,  was  on  the  boundary  of 
their  land,  nothing  god-like  was  ever  unfolded  withm  its 
precincts.  Is  it  strange  that  in  the  midst  of  such  gross 
sensuality,  the  love  of  self  overpowered  the  love  of  country  ; 
that  neither  heroes  nor  poets  were  created  among  them  by 
the  inspirations  of  patriotism  ?  Anarchy  and  tyranny  com- 
monly followed  each  other  in  regular  succession  ;  and  thus 
Thessaly,  always  ripe  for  foreign  subjugation,  cowered  of 
itself  beneath  the  yoke  of  the  Persians,  and  afterwards 
under  that  of  Philip. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  Peneus,  the  pure  race  and 
language  of  the  Hellenes  were  not  to  be  found.  Other 
nations,  probably  of  Illyrian  descent,  dwelt  there  ;  the  Per- 
rhsebians,  the  Athamanes,  and  others ;  who,  as  Strabo  re- 
lates, sometimes  claimed  to  belong  to  the  Thessalians,  and 
sometimes  to  the  Macedonians.^  The  case  was  not  different 
in  Epirus,  which  lay  to  the  west.  The  house  of  the  iEacidae, 
a  Grecian  family,  the  descendants  of  Achilles,  were  indeed 
'  the  rulers  over  the  Molossians ;  and  the  oracle  of  the  Jupiter 
of  the  Hellenes  was  heard  in  the  sacred  grove  of  Dodona ; 
but  still  the  larger  portion  of  the  inhabitants  seems  hardly 
to  have  been  of  the  Grecian  race. 

The  main  land  of  Hellas  was  surrounded  by  a  coronet  of 
islands,  which  were  gradually  occupied  by  the  Hellenes,  and 
came  to  be  considered  as  parts  of  their  country.  They  rose 
above  the  sea  with  beautiful  verdure,  and  were  surmounted 
by  rocky  hills.  We  can  hardly  doubt,  that  we  see  in  them 
the  remains  of  an  earlier  world;  when  the  waters  which 
covered  the  middle  parts  of  Asia,  and  the  deserts  of  northern 
Africa,  retired,  leaving  behind  them  the  Euxine  and  the 
Mediterranean  Sea,  as  two  vast  reservoirs.  Each  of  those 
islands  commonly  bore  the  name  of  the  chief  town,  of 
which  it  formed  the  territory;  with  the  exception  of  the 
three  large  islands,  Euboea,  Crete,  and  Cyprus,  each  of 
which  contained  several  cities.  Almost  every  one  of  them 
contained  its  own  remarkable  objects,  and  its  own  claims 
to  fame.  Fruitful  Corcyra^  boasted  then,  as  it  does 
now,  of  its  harbour  and  its  ships.     Ithaca,  small  as  it  is, 

*  Strabo,  vii.  p.  494.    Others  esteem  them  of  Pelasgic  origin.    Compare 
C.  O.  Miiller's  Dorians,  i.  p.  25.  *  Now  Corfu. 


GEOGRAPHICAL  VIEW   OF  GREECE. 


19 


shares  the  immortality  of  Ulysses  and  Homer.     Cythera,  in 
the  south,  was  the  residence  of  the  Paphian  goddess.     ^Vi- 
na, unimportant  as  it  seems,  long  disputed  with  Athens  the 
sovereignty  of  the  sea.     What  Greek  could  hear  Salamis 
named,  without  feeling  a  superiority  over  the  barbarians  ^ 
Eubcea  was  celebrated  for  its  fruitfulness ;  Thasos,  for  its 
gold  mines;  Samothrace,  for  its  mysteries;  and  in  the  laby- 
rinth of  the  Cyclades  and  Sporades,  now  called  the  Ar- 
chipelago,  what  island  had  not  afforded  the  poets  the  sub- 
ject of  a  hymn  ? '  Delos  and  Naxus  had  their  gods ;  Paros 
Its  marble;  Melos,  its  misfortunes.^    If  so  many  of  them  are 
now  desolate  ;  if  the  alluring  Cythera  has  become  a  naked 
rock ;  if  feamos  is  poisoned  by  its  swamps ;  if  nature  herself 
seems  here  to  have  grown  old;  shall  we  conclude  that  these 
things  were  so  in  ancient  times?    The  Etesian  winds  blow 
certainly  with  more  piercing  roughness,  now  that  the  tops 
ot  the  mountains  are  naked ;  the  brooks  stagnate  in  the 
desolate  plains ;  but  the  change  of  seasons  still  produces 
varying  visions;  and  the  traveller,  who  at  one  time  finds  the   ' 
Archipelago  melancholy  and  waste,  a  few  months  later  may 
contemplate  a  smiling  prospect.     «  In  spring,  these  islands 
are  covered  with  green  turf,  with  anemones  and  flowers  of 
al  colours.     But  in  the  month  of  August,  when  the  north- 
erly winds  prevail,  every  thing  is  burnt  and  dried  up,  and 
the  parched  fields  produce  no  more  herbage  till  autumn."  ^ 
Ihis  view  of  Greece,  though  it  cannot  claim  to  be  con- 
sidered  a  regu  ar  description,  leads  us  to  several  remarks, 
which  may  perhaps  throw  some  light  on  the  history  of  the 
nation.  -^ 

First :  Greece  was  naturally  so  divided  and  cut  in  pieces 
m  a  geographical  point  of  view,  that  it  could  not  have  been 
easy  tor  any  one  district  to  gain  the  supremacy  over  the  rest. 
Ihessaly  could  not  well  control  the  lands  which  lay  to  the 
south  of  (Eta;  and  still  less  could  Hellas  sway  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, or  the  Peloponnesus,  Hellas.  Nature  herself  had  erect- 
ed breastworks  for  those,  who  desired  and  who  knew  how  to^ 

2  c  ^^1^^  mention  the  hymns  of  Callimachus  ? 
bee  Thucydides,  v.  1 16. 

c  2 


20 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  I. 


EARLIEST   CONDITION   OF   THE   NATION. 


81 


be  free.  It  was  easy  to  defend  Thermopylae,  or  the  Isthmus. 
We  do  not  here  take  into  consideration  the  superior  power 
of  a  foreign  conqueror ;  but  even  that  could  have  effected 
little,  so  long  as  the  nation  refused  to  forge  its  own  chains. 
Again  :  If  Greece  was  excelled  by  many  countries  in  fer- 
tility, it  would  yet  be  difficult,  and,  at  least  in  Europe,  im- 
possible, to  find  aland  of  such  limited  extent,  where  nature 
had  done  so  much  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  various 
branches  of  industry.  Greece  was  not  merely  an  agricul- 
tural, or  a  commercial  country,  or  a  land  fitted  for  pastur- 
ing ;  it  was  all,  at  once ;  but  different  parts  of  it  had  differ- 
ent degrees  of  aptitude  for  the  one  or  the  other.  The 
fruitful  Messenia  was  fit  for  the  growth  of  corn ;  Arcadia,  for 
the  nurture  of  cattle.  Attica  was  proud  of  its  oil,  and  the 
honey  of  Hymettus;  Thessaly,  of  its  horses.  Of  mines, 
there  were  not  many;  still  they  were  not  unknown  in 
Laurium  and  Thasos.  The  maritime  towns  were  suited  for 
trade  and  commerce ;  and  the  coasts,  indented  with  bays, 
and  the  islands,  invited  to  navigation.  This  variety  of  pur- 
suits in  active  life  may  have  been  the  cause  of  an  extensive 
intellectual  culture,  which  was  directed  to  many  objects,  and 
perhaps  laid  the  foundation  for  the  further  improvement  of 

the  nation. 

Lastly :  No  other  country  in  Europe  was  so  favourably 
situated  for  holding  commerce  with  the  oldest  cultivated 
nations  of  the  western  world.  On  the  way  to  Asia  Minor 
and  Phoenicia,  one  island  almost  touched  upon  another.  It 
was  easy  to  cross  into  Italy  ;  and  the  coasts  of  Egypt  were 
not  far  distant.  Even  in  the  times  of  fable,  a  path  was  dis- 
covered from  the  shores  of  Thessaly  to  those  of  Colchis; 
and  how  much  earlier,  and  with  how  much  greater  facility, 
to  those  countries,  where  no  rocks,  like  the  Symplegades, 
opposed  the  passage  of  the  daring  Argo  ? 


CHAPTER    11. 

EARLIEST    CONDITION   OF  THE  NATION ;  AND   ITS 

BRANCHES. 

The  nation  of  the  Hellenes,  as  they  called  themselves  after  an 
ancient  leader,  (for  they  received  the  name  of  Greeks  from 
foreigners,)  preserved  many  a  tradition  respecting  their 
earliest  state,  representing  them  to  have  been  nearly  on  a 
level  with  the  savage  tribes  which  now  wander  in  the  forests 
of  North  America.^  From  these  traditions,  it  would  seem, 
that  there  was  once  a  time  when  they  had  no  agriculture, 
but  lived  on  the  spontaneous  produce  of  the  woods ;  and 
when  even  fire  could  not  be  appropriated  to  the  service  of 
man,  till  it  had  first  been  stolen  from  heaven.  Yet,  in  the 
mean  while,  they  gradually  spread  over  the  country,  which 
they  afterwards  possessed  ;  and  all  foreign  tribes  were  either 
driven  from  the  soil,  or  were  mingled  with  them.  Much 
is  told  of  the  emigration  of  individual  tribes,  from  the  south- 
ern districts  to  the  northern,  and  from  these  back  again  into 
the  southern ;  but  the  peculiar  habits  of  nomades,  as  seen  in 
the  nations  of  middle  Asia,  belonged  to  the  Greeks  as  little 
as  to  the  Germanic  race.  The  moderate  extent  and  the 
hilly  character  of  their  countiy,  which  afforded  pasture  only 
for  less  numerous  herds,  did  not  admit  of  that  kind  of  life. 

As  far  as  we  can  judge  from  the  very  indefinite  accounts 
of  this  early  period,  it  seems,  especially  in  the  fourteenth 
and  thirteenth  centuries  before  the  Christian  era,  that  the 
race  of  the  Hellenes  was  already  so  far  extended  over  Hellas, 
as  to  be  every  where  predominant.  For  it  appears  as  such 
even  then,  before  the  Trojan  war.  The  nation  of  the 
Pelasgi,  which,  no  less  than  that  of  the  Hellenes,  belonged 
to  the  first  inhabitants  of  the  country,  and  which  must  be 
considered  as  having  had  a  different  origin,  since  their  lan- 
guage was  different,'^  may  at  an  early  period  have  been  the 

'  ^schyl.  Prom,  vinct.  v.  442,  etc. 

'  Herod,  i.  57.  The  relation  of  the  Pelasgi  to  the  Hellenes  is  of  difficult 
solution.  But  the  judgment  of  Herodotus  in  the  passage  now  cited,  rests  on 
the  comparison  of  the  language  of  Pelasgi,  of  whom  some  were  found  even 
in  his  times,  in  the  city  Cruston,  and  Placiae,  and  Scylace,  the  two  last  on  the 


^2 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  II. 


most  powerful,  but  was  constantly  reduced  within  narrower 
limits,  and  either  emigrated  to  Italy  and  other  countries ; 
,  or,  where   it   preserved  its  residence,  as  in  Arcadia   and 
'  Attica,  was  gradually  mingled  with  the  Hellenes,  of  whom 
the  power  was  constantly  increasing,  until  every  vestige  of 
it,  as  a  separate  race,  was  entirely  lost.     Whilst  the  Hellenes 
were  thus  spreading  through  Greece,  the  several  chief  tribes 
of  them  became  more  and  more  distinctly  marked  ;  and  this 
division  was  so  lasting  and  so  full  of  consequences,  that  the 
internal  history  of  the  nation  for  the  most  part  depended  on 
it.     Of  the  four   most   important   branches,  the  lonians, 
Dorians,  iEolians,  and   Achaeans,  the   two   first    (for  the 
iEolians  were  chiefly  mingled  with  the  Dorians)  ^  and  the 
Achaeans  were  so  eminent,  that  they  deserve  to  be  regarded 
as  the  chief  component  parts  of  the  nation.     It  is  important, 
in  order  to  become  acquainted  with  the  people,  to  know  in 
what  parts  of  Greece  these  several  tribes  had  their  places  of 
residence.     But  these  places  did  not  remain  unchanged ; 
the  event  which  had  the  greatest  influence  on  them  for  the 
succeeding  time,  happened  shortly  after  the  termination  of 
the  Trojan  war.     Till  then  the  tribe  of  the  Achaeans  had 
been  so  powerful,  that  Homer,  who,  as  Thucydides  has  al- 
ready observed,^  had  no  general  name  for  the  whole  nation, 
commonly  distinguishes  that  tribe  from  the  others ;  which 
he  sometimes  designates  collectively  by  the  name  of  Pan- 
hellenes.^    It  possessed  at  that  time  almost  all  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, with  the  exception  of  the  very  district  which  after- 
wards was  occupied  by  it  and  bore  its  name,  but  which  was 
then  still  called  Ionia ;  and  as  the  territories  of  Agamemnon 

Hellespont.  This  was  so  different  from  the  language  of  the  Hellenes,  as  in 
his  opinion  to  prove  a  nation  of  a  different  stock.  True,  this  is  at  variance 
with  his  previous  remarks,  that  the  Dorians  are  of  Hellenic,  the  lonians  of 
Pelasgic  origin.  But  the  lonians  whom  he  had  in  view,  are  the  Athenians, 
who  had  become  Hellenes,  by  the  immigrations  and  intermarriage  of  lonians 
with  the  native  Pelasgi.  Compare  viii.  44.  If  difference  of  language  proves 
difference  of  origin,  we  must  discriminate  between  the  Pelasgi  and  Hellenes. 
For  to  affirm  that  the  Pelasgi  of  the  cities  above  named,  had  exchanged  their 
own  language  for  another,  would  be  a  wholly  gratuitous  supposition. 

»  Eunpides,  enumerating  in  Ion,  v.  1581,  etc.,  the  tribes  of  the  Hellenes, 
makes  no  mention  of  the  ^Eolians. 

*  Thucyd.  i.  3. 

'  navsXXrjvis  Kal  'Axawl,  as  Iliad  ii.  530.  The  Hellenes  of  Homer  are  par- 
ticularly the  inhabitants  of  Thessaly ;  but  the  expression  Panhellenes  proves 
that  even  then,  or  soon  after,  when  the  catalogue  of  the  ships  was  written,  the 
name  had  begun  to  receive  a  general  application. 


EARLIEST  CONDITION  OF  THE  NATION. 


2S 


and  Menelaus,  the  most  powerful  of  the  Grecian  princes,  both 
lay  in  that  peninsula,  the  first  rank  was  clearly  due  to  the 
Achaeans.     But  soon  after  this  war,  it  was  the  lot  of  that 
tribe  to  be  in  part  subjugated  and  reduced  to  the  severest 
bondage,^  and  in  part  to  be  expelled  from  the  lands  where 
it  had  resided,  and  confined  to  a  small  district,  which  from 
that  time  was  called  Achaia.     This  was  a  consequence  of 
the  immigration  of  the  Dorians,  under  the  direction  of  the 
descendants  of  Hercules ;  of  which  immigration  the  chief 
object  was  the  conquest  of  the  Peloponnesus ;  but  it  also 
occasioned  a  change  in  the  places  occupied  by  most  of  the 
other  tribes  of  the  Hellenes.     From  this  time  almost  the 
whole  of  the  Peloponnesus  was  occupied  by  the  Dorians,  and 
the  kindred  tribes  of  the  ^tolians,  who  possessed  Elis ;  the 
district   of   Achaia   alone   became   the    property    of    the 
Achaeans,  who,  being  in  quest  of  refuge,  drove  from  it  the 
lonians.     But  besides  this,  a  large  part  of  the  rest  of  Hellas 
was  occupied  by  tribes,  which,  though  not  expressly  called 
Dorians,   betrayed   by  their  dialects  their  Doric   origin; 
Boeotians,  Locrians,  thessalians,  and  even  the  Macedonian 
Hellenes  belonged  to  this  class;  and  although  the  inhabitants 
of  the  western  maritime  tracts  and  islands  were  at  first  called 
iEolians,  their  dialects  were  so  similar,  that  they  soon  ceased 
to  be  distinguished  from  the  Dorians.     This  powerful  tribe 
was  also  extended  towards  the  east  and  west  by  means  of  its 
colonies.     Several  of  the  islands  of  the  Archipelago  were 
occupied  by  them  ;  and  they  flourished  on  the  coast  of  Asia 
Minor,  and  still  more  in  Lower  Italy  and  Sicily,  and  their 
colonies  bloomed  even   in  Africa   in  Cyrene.     The  Ionic 
branch,  as  far  as  we  know,  kept  possession  of  no  part  of  the 
main  land  of  Greece,  excepting  Attica.^     But  Attica  alone 
outweighed  in  glory  and  power  all  the  rest  of  Greece. 
Most  of  the  large  island  of  Euboea  also  belonged  to  the 
lonians ;  many  of  the  small  islands  of  the  Archipelago  were 

»  The  Helots  of  the  Spartans  were,  for  the  most  part,  descendants  of  the 
conquered  Achaeans.    Theopomp.  ap.  Athen.  vi.  p.  265. 

2  The  other  lonians  and  even  the  Athenians  laid  aside  the  name ;  and  none 
formally  preserved  it  except  those  of  Asia  Minor.  Herod,  i.  143.  Hence 
the  extent  of  this  tribe  cannot  be  accurately  given ;  and  indeed  no  attempt 
should  be  made  to  trace  every  little  Grecian  tribe  to  its  origin,  and  form  a  tree 
of  descent  for  them  all.  This  the  Greeks  themselves  were  never  able  to  do ; 
but  the  chief  tribes  remained  distinct. 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  II. 


most  powerful,  but  was  constantly  reduced  within  narrower 
limits,  and  either  emigrated  to  Italy  and  other  countries ; 
or,  where   it   preserved  its  residence,  as  in  Arcadia   and 
'  Attica,  was  gradually  mingled  with  the  Hellenes,  of  whom 
the  power  was  constantly  increasing,  until  every  vestige  of 
it,  as  a  separate  race,  was  entirely  lost.     Whilst  the  Hellenes 
were  thus  spreading  through  Greece,  the  several  chief  tribes 
of  them  became  more  and  more  distinctly  marked  ;  and  this 
division  was  so  lasting  and  so  full  of  consequences,  that  the 
internal  history  of  the  nation  for  the  most  part  depended  on 
it.     Of  the  four   most   important   branches,  the  lonians, 
Dorians,  iEolians,  and   Achaeans,  the   two   first    (for   the 
iEolians  were  chiefly  mingled  with  the  Dorians)  ^  and  the 
Achaeans  were  so  eminent,  that  they  deserve  to  be  regarded 
as  the  chief  component  parts  of  the  nation.     It  is  important, 
in  order  to  become  acquainted  with  the  people,  to  know  in 
what  parts  of  Greece  these  several  tribes  had  their  places  of 
residence.     But  these  places  did  not  remain  unchanged ; 
the  event  which  had  the  greatest  influence  on  them  for  the 
succeeding  time,  happened  shortly  after  the  termination  of 
the  Trojan  war.     Till  then  the  tribe  of  the  Achaeans  had 
been  so  powerful,  that  Homer,  who,  as  Thucydides  has  al- 
ready observed,^  had  no  general  name  for  the  whole  nation, 
commonly  distinguishes  that  tribe  from  the  others ;  which 
he  sometimes  designates  collectively  by  the  name  of  Pan- 
hellenes.'    It  possessed  at  that  time  almost  all  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, with  the  exception  of  the  very  district  which  after- 
wards was  occupied  by  it  and  bore  its  name,  but  which  was 
then  still  called  Ionia ;  and  as  the  territories  of  Agamemnon 

Hellespont.  This  was  so  different  from  the  language  of  the  Hellenes,  as  in 
his  opinion  to  prove  a  nation  of  a  different  stock.  True,  this  is  at  variance 
wi  h  his  previous  remarks,  that  the  Dorians  are  of  Hellenic,  the  lonians  of 
w^lT^  r^""-  I?  n  ^^^  I^'^iajis  whom  he  had  in  view,  are  the  Athenians, 
Zul  ^ht  bef.«^e  Hellenes  by  the  immigrations  and  intermarriage  of  lonians 
with  the  native  Pelasgi.  Compare  viii.  44.  If  difference  of  language  proves 
Vnrl?^^  r^FI^lu^^^^'^  discriminate  between  the  Pelasgi  and  Hellenes. 
For  to  affirm  that  the  Pelasgi  of  the  cities  above  named,  had  exchanged  their 
own  language  for  another,  would  be  a  wholly  gratuitous  supposition 

Eunpides,  enumerating  in  Ion,  v.  1581,  etc,  the  tribes  of  the  Hellenes, 
makes  no  mention  of  the  iEolians.  ' 

*  Thucyd.  i.  3. 

fiVnl^rt/^"*'- ^^'^K-.'^^^^^'i^ J^'^^,  "•  ^P'    ^^^  Hellenes  of  Homer  are  par- 
ticulariy  the  inhabitants  of  Thessaly;  but  the  expression  Panhellenes  proves 

n.mP  W  t'^'.nV'"''"  ^^^''*  ""^'^  ^^'  c^\;^\ogn^  of  the  ships  was  written,  the 
name  had  begun  to  receive  a  general  application. 


EARLIEST  CONDITION  OF  THE  NATION. 


%s 


and  Menelaus,  the  most  powerful  of  the  Grecian  princes,  both 
lay  in  that  peninsula,  the  first  rank  was  clearly  due  to  the 
Achaeans.  But  soon  after  this  war,  it  was  the  lot  of  that 
tribe  to  be  in  part  subjugated  and  reduced  to  the  severest 
bondage,^  and  in  part  to  be  expelled  from  the  lands  where 
it  had  resided,  and  confined  to  a  small  district,  which  from 
that  time  was  called  Achaia.  This  was  a  consequence  of 
the  immigration  of  the  Dorians,  under  the  direction  of  the 
descendants  of  Hercules ;  of  which  immigration  the  chief 
object  was  the  conquest  of  the  Peloponnesus ;  but  it  also 
occasioned  a  change  in  the  places  occupied  by  most  of  the 
other  tribes  of  the  Hellenes.  From  this  time  almost  the 
whole  of  the  Peloponnesus  was  occupied  by  the  Dorians,  and 
the  kindred  tribes  of  the  iEtolians,  who  possessed  Elis ;  the 
district  of  Achaia  alone  became  the  property  of  the 
Achaeans,  who,  being  in  quest  of  refuge,  drove  from  it  the 
lonians.  But  besides  this,  a  large  part  of  the  rest  of  Hellas 
was  occupied  by  tribes,  which,  though  not  expressly  called 
Dorians,  betrayed  by  their  dialects  their  Doric  origin; 
Boeotians,  Locrians,  Thessalians,  and  even  the  Macedonian 
Hellenes  belonged  to  this  class;  and  although  the  inhabitants 
of  the  western  maritime  tracts  and  islands  were  at  first  called 
jEolians,  their  dialects  were  so  similar,  that  they  soon  ceased 
to  be  distinguished  from  the  Dorians.  This  powerful  tribe 
was  also  extended  towards  the  east  and  west  by  means  of  its 
colonies.  Several  of  the  islands  of  the  Archipelago  were 
occupied  by  them ;  and  they  flourished  on  the  coast  of  Asia 
Minor,  and  still  more  in  Lower  Italy  and  Sicily,  and  their 
colonies  bloomed  even  in  Africa  in  Gyrene.  The  Ionic 
branch,  as  far  as  we  know,  kept  possession  of  no  part  of  the 
main  land  of  Greece,  excepting  Attica.^  But  Attica  alone 
outweighed  in  glory  and  power  all  the  rest  of  Greece. 
Most  of  the  large  island  of  Eubcea  also  belonged  to  the 
lonians ;  many  of  the  small  islands  of  the  Archipelago  were 

*  The  Helots  of  the  Spartans  were,  for  the  most  part,  descendants  of  the 
conquered  Achaeans.     Tneopomp.  ap.  Athen.  vi.  p.  265. 

*  The  other  lonians  and  even  tne  Athenians  laid  aside  the  name ;  and  none 
formally  preserved  it  except  those  of  Asia  Minor.  Herod,  i.  143.  Hence 
the  extent  of  this  tribe  cannot  be  accurately  given ;  and  indeed  no  attempt 
should  be  made  to  trace  every  little  Grecian  tribe  to  its  origin,  and  form  a  tree 
of  descent  for  them  all.  This  the  Greeks  themselves  w^re  never  able  to  do ; 
but  the  chief  tribes  remained  distinct. 


u 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  II. 


entirely  occupied  by  them  ;  and  while  their  colonies  in  Asia 
Minor  were  decidedly  superior,  their  colonies  on  the  coasts 
of  Italy  and  Sicily  were  but  little  inferior  to  those  of  other 
Grecian  tribes. 

From  the  earliest  times,  these  two  tribes  were  distin- 
guished from  each  other  by  striking  characteristics,  which 
were  not  removed  by  the  cultivation  which  was  becoming 
universal.  On  the  Doric  tribe,  the  character  of  severity  is 
imprinted,  which  is  observable  in  the  full  tones  of  its  dialect, 
in  its  songs,  its  dances,  the  simplicity  of  its  style  of  living, 
and  in  its  constitutions.  It  was  most  strongly  attached  to 
ancient  usage.*  From  this  its  regulations  for  private  and 
public  life  took  their  origin,  which  were  fixed  by  the  prescrip- 
tive rules  of  its  lawgivers.  It  respected  the  superiority  of 
family  and  age.  The  governments  of  the  Doric  cities  were 
originally  more  or  less  the  government  of  rich  and  noble 
families  ;  and  this  is  one  cause  of  the  greater  solidity  of  their 
political  institutions.  Good  counsel  was  drawn  from  the 
experience  of  age;  wherever  an  old  man  appeared,  the 
young  rose  from  their  seats.  Religion  among  the  Dorians 
was  less  a  matter  of  luxury ;  but  it  was  more  an  object  of 
which  they  felt  the  need.  What  important  transaction  did 
they  ever  begin,  without  first  consulting  the  oracle  ? — All 
this  is  true  from  the  earliest  times.  When  once  the  rever- 
ence for  ancient  usage  was  overcome,  the  Dorians  knew  no 
bounds ;  and  Tarentum  exceeded  all  cities  in  luxury,  just 
as  Syracuse  did  in  internal  feuds.  After  this  tribe  had  once 
emigrated  to  the  Peloponnesus,  not  only  the  greater  part  of 
that  peninsula,  but  also  of  the  neighbouring  main  land  of 
Hellas  was  occupied  by  it. 

The  lonians  were  on  the  contrary  more  distinguished  for 
vivacity  and  a  proneness  to  excitement.  Ancient  usage 
restrained  them  much  less  than  it  did  the  Dorians.  They 
were  easily  induced  to  change,  if  pleasure  could  be  gained 
by  the  change.  They  were  bent  on  enjoyment,  and  seem 
to  have  been  equally  susceptible  of  refined  gratifications  of 
the  mind  and  those  of  the  senses.  They  lived  amidst 
holidays ;  and  nothing  was  pleasant  to  them  without  song 

»  The  character  of  the  Doric  tribe,  as  well  as  its  history,  has  been  amply 
Illustrated  by  C.  0.  Miiller,  in  his  History  of  Grecian  Tribes  and  Cities, 
vol.  n.  . 


EARLIEST  CONDITION  OF  THE  NATION. 


25 


and  dance.  Their  soft  dialect  brings  to  mind  the  languages 
of  the  South  Sea ;  but  in  both  cases  the  remark  is  found  to 
be  true,  that  a  soft  language  is  by  no  means  a  proof  of 
deficiency  in  warlike  spirit.  In  the  constitutions  of  their 
states,  hereditary  privileges  were  either  rejected  at  once,  or 
borne  with  only  for  a  short  time.  The  supreme  authority 
rested  with  the  people,  and  although  it  was  limited  by  many 
institutions,  the  people  still  decided  the  character  of  the 
government.  Any  thing  could  be  expected  of  these  states, 
rather  than  domestic  tranquillity.  Nothing  was  so  great 
that  they  did  not  believe  they  could  attain  it ;  and  for  that 
very  reason  they  often  attained  greatness. 

These  differences  in  the  natural  character  of  the  most  im- 
portant tribes,  needed  to  be  mentioned  at  the  beginning. 
There  are  few  subjects  in  history  which  have  been  so  little 
illustrated,  especially  with  reference  to  their  consequences, 
as  the  characters  of  nations  and  their  branches.  And  yet  it 
is  these  peculiarities,  which,  in  a  certain  degree,  form  the 
guiding  thread  in  the  web  of  the'history  of  nations.  From 
whatever  they  may  proceed,  whether  from  original  descent, 
or  the  earliest  institutions,  or  from  both,  experience  teaches 
that  they  are  almost  indelible.  The  difference  between  the 
Doric  and  Ionic  tribes,  runs  through  the  whole  of  Grecian 
history.  This  produced  the  deep-rooted  hatred  between 
Sparta  and  Athens,  though  that  hatred  may  have  been 
nourished  by  other  causes  ;  and  who  needs  to  be  told,  that 
the  history  of  all  Greece  is  connected  with  the  history  of 
those  leading  states. 

The  difference  of  tribes  and  their  dispositions  was  also 
one  of  the  chief  causes  of  the  subsequent  political  partitions 
of  the  soil.  There  probably  was  never  a  land  of  similar  ex- 
tent, in  which  so  large  a  number  of  states  subsisted  together. 
They  lived,  both  the  large  and  the  small  ones,  (if  indeed  we 
may  call  these  large,  which  were  only  proportionally  so,) 
each  after  its  own  customs;  and  hence  Greece  was  saved 
from  the  torpor  of  large  empires,  and  was  able  to  preserve 
so  much  life  and  activity  within  itself. 

Of  the  earliest  history  of  the  nation,  we  can  expect  only 
fragments.  We  leave  it  to  the  historian  to  collect  them 
and  to  judge  of  their  value.^     But  we  must  direct  attention 

*  On   this  subject    I  refer  to  the  work    of   Professor    C.   O.   Miiller: 


26 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  III. 


II 


to  those  general  circumstances,  which  had  a  decisive  in- 
fluence on  the  earliest  progress  of  national  culture,  if  we 
would  form  correct  opinions  with  respect  to  it.  Before  we 
can  describe  the  heroic  age,  we  must  explain  the  influence 
of  religion,  of  early  poetry,  and  of  foreign  emigrations,  and 
show  how  they  served  to  introduce  that  age. 


CHAPTER  III. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  THE  CULTURE  OF  THE  GREEKS. 

RELIGION. 

It  is  not  easy  to  decide,  whether  the  culture  of  a  nation  pro- 
ceeds originally  from  their  sacred  or  their  civil  institutions. 
The  character  of  the  domestic  relations,  the  proper  appli- 
cation of  the  means  provided  for  the  easier  and  more  regular 
support  of  life,  agriculture,  and  husbandry,  constitute  the 
first  foundation  of  national  culture;  but  even  these  can 
make  but  little  progress  without  the  assistance  of  religion. 
Without  the  fear  of  the  gods,  marriage  loses  its  sanctity,  and 
property  its  security.  The  earthly  and  the  divine  are  so 
mingled  in  our  natures,  that  nothing  but  a  continued  har- 
mony between  them  both,  can  elevate  us  above  the  mere 
animal  creation.  But  it  has  been  wisely  ordained  by  the 
Author  of  our  being,  that  the  feelings  of  religion  can  be 
unfolded,  and  thus  the  character  of  our  existence  ennobled, 
even  before  a  high  degree  of  knowledge  has  been  attained. 
It  would  be  difficult,  and  perhaps  impossible,  to  find  a  na- 
tion, which  can  show  no  vestiges  of  religion ;  and  there 
never  yet  has  been,  nor  can  there  be  a  nation,  in  which  the 
reverence  for  a  superior  being  was  but  the  fruit  of  refined 
philosophy. 

The  foundation  of  all  religion  is  the  belief  in  higher 
existences,  (however  differently  these  may  be  represented  to 
the  mind,)  which  have  an  influence  on  our  destinies.     The 

Geschichte  Hellenischer  Stamme  und  Stadte,  B.  i.    Orchomenos  und  die 
Mmyer  J  B.  u.  ui.  die  Durier.     MiiUer's  Orchomenos  and  the  Dorians. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


27 


I 


I 


natural  consequences  of  this  belief  are  certain  rites  of  wor- 
ship ;  invocations,  sacrifices,  and  offerings.  All  this  is  so 
connected  with  the  feelings  of  man,  that  it  springs  from 
within  him,  and  exists  independent  of  all  research  or  know- 
ledge. And  this  is  the  religion  of  the  people.  But  so  soon 
as  the  intelligent  spirit  of  man  was  somewhat  awakened,  a 
higher  principle  was  separated  (though  in  very  different 
ways)  from  this  simple  faith ;  and  that  remained  in  the  pos- 
session of  a  small  circle  of  priests,  of  the  initiated,  of  the 
enlightened.  If  the  religion  of  the  people  reposed  only  on 
belief  and  indistinct  conceptions,  certain  doctrines,  on  the 
contrary,  belonged  to  those  higher  circles,  although  they 
were  often  represented  by  images,  and  exhibited  to  the 
senses  by  outward  ceremonies.  These  two  kinds  of  religion 
commonly  remained  distinct  from  each  other;  and  the 
difference  was  the  most  clearly  marked  in  such  nations  as 
had  a  caste  of  priests.  But  still  there  were  some  points,  in 
which  they  both  were  united.  Even  a  caste  of  priests,  with 
whatever  secrecy  they  guarded  their  doctrines,  could  in- 
fluence the  people  only  by  means  of  external  forms.  But 
the  less  the  order  of  priests  is  separated  by  a  nice  fine  of 
division  from  the  mass  of  the  people,  the  more  faint  becomes 
the  distinction  between  the  religion  of  the  people  and  the 
doctrine  of  the  priests.  How  far  the  two  differed  from  each 
other,  apd  remained  different,  must  ever  be  an  object  of 
learned  inquiry ;  to  have  confounded  them,  has  been  one  of 
the  chief  sources  of  error  with  regard  to  the  religion  of  the 
ancients. 

Among  the  Greeks  there  never  was  a  distinct  caste  of 
priests,  nor  even,  as  we  shall  hereafter  observe,  a  separate 
order  of  priesthood.  And  yet,  beside  the  popular  religion, 
they  had  a  religion  of  the  initiated  ;  and  their  mysteries  were 
almost  as  ancient  as  the  faith  of  the  people.  Each  of  these 
must  be  considered  by  itself,  before  we  can  draw  any  general 
conclusion  respecting  the  influence  of  religion  on  their 
character. 

The  popular  religion  of  the  Greeks  rested  on  a  belief  in 
certain  superhuman  beings,  and  in  the  influence  exercised 
by  them  over  the  destinies  of  mortals;  on  the  fear  of 
offending  them,  resulting  from  this  belief;  and  on  the  cus- 
tom of  worshipping  them.     Yet  according  to  the  account  of 


28 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  hi. 


the  earliest  and  most  credible  witnesses,  these  divinities 
were  not  of  Grecian  origin ;  and  the  learned  investigations 
of  modern  writers   on   the   origin   of  them  individually, 
establish  the  fact  beyond  a  doubt.^    "  The  Hellenes,"  says 
Herodotus,^  "  have  received  their  gods  of  the  Pelasgi ;  but 
the  Pelasgi,  who  at  first  honoured  their  gods  without  giving 
them  particular  names,  took  the  names  of  their  divinities 
from  the   Egyptians."     This  account  of  the  historian  has 
difficulties,  which  cannot  be  entirely  cleared  away.     If  it  be 
granted,  that  certain  divinities  and  the  manner  in  which 
they  were  worshipped  came  from  Egypt,  we  may  still  ask, 
how  could  the  names  have  been  of  Egyptian  origin,  since 
the  names  of  the  Egyptian  gods  are  almost  all  known  to  us, 
and  are  very  different  from  those  of  the  Greeks.     We  learn 
of  Herodotus  himself,  that  it  was  common  for  the  Egyptian 
priests,  even  in  his  age,  to  institute  comparisons  between 
their  gods  and  those  of  the  Greeks,  and  to  transfer  the 
names   of  the   latter   to   their  own  divinities.      And  this 
enables  us,  at  least,  to  explain  how  the  historian,  who  was 
accustomed  to  hear  a  Jupiter,  a  Bacchus,  a  Diana,  men- 
tioned in  Egypt,  could  have  thought  the  matter  very  pro- 
bable.    But  the  question  is  still  by  no  means  answered. 
For  if  the  Egyptian  priests,  in  the  time   of  Herodotus, 
applied  the  Grecian  names  to  their  gods,  how  can  we  ex- 
plain the  alleged  fact,  that  the  Greeks  first  borrowed  those 
names  from  them  ?    There  are,  however,  two  circumstances, 
which  we  may  infer  from  the  words  of  Herodotus  himself, 
and  which  throw  some  light  on  the  subject.     The  historian 
has  not  concealed  the  source  of  his  information.     These 
assertions  were  made  to  him  at  Dodona ;  he  heard,  .then,  a 
tradition  of  the  priests  of  that  place.     But  the  oracle  of 
Dodona  traced  its  origin  to  Egypt ;  can  we  wonder,  then, 
that  Its  priests  should  derive  the  gods  of  the  Greeks  from 
the  same  source  ?    Again :  it  is  clear  from  Herodotus,  that 
the  Hellenes  did  not  receive  them  directly  from  the  Egyp- 
tians, but  through  the  Pelasgi ;  that  is,  they  received  them 
at  second  hand.     We  shall  hereafter  remark,  that  they  came 
chiefly  by  way  of  Crete  and  Samothrace.     Could  such  cir- 

'  ^.^"'P^'^'  "".^ W"^  Creuzer.  Symbolik,  b.  ii.  s.  376,  etc.,  and  Bottiger, 
Kunstmythologie,  Abschn.  i.  uber  Zeus;  Abschn.  ii.  ube^  Juno, 
iiercxl.  11.  ol/j  d'a. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


29 


cuitous  routes  have  left  them  unchanged  ?  And  is  it  not 
probable,  that  the  Pelasgi  essentially  altered  them  in  their 
own  way,  before  delivering  them  to  the  Hellenes?  Ques- 
tions of  this  kind  cannot  now  be  answered  with  certainty  ; 
but,  however  many  of  the  Egyptian  gods  may  have  been 
introduced  into  Greece,  it  is  certain  that  not  all  were  of  that 
origin.  The  father  of  history  has  not  forgotten  to  remark,^ 
that  Neptune,  Juno,  Bacchus,  and  others  were  not  of 
Egyptian  origin,  and  this  has  been  fully  substantiated  by 
the  acute  investigations  of  the  modern  inquirers  whom  we 
have  just  cited. 

But  to  whatever  country  the  gods  of  the  Hellenes  may 
have  originally  belonged,  they  certainly  did  not  remain,  in 
Greece,  what  they  had  been  before.  We  need  but  throw  a 
glance  on  the  Grecian  religion  to  convince  ourselves,  that 
the  gods  of  the  Greeks  became  entirely  their  property,  if 
they  were  not  so  originally;  that  is,  the  representations 
which  they  made  of  them,  were  entirely  different  from  the 
conceptions  of  those  nations,  of  whom  they  may  have  bor- 
rowed them.  Wherever  Jupiter,  Juno,  Neptune,  and 
Phoebus  Apollo,  may  have  first  been  worshipped,  no  country 
but  Hellas  adored  the  Olympian  ruler  of  the  world,  the 
queen  of  heaven,  the  power  which  encompassed  the  world, 
the  far-darting  god  of  light.  And  it  was  the  same  with  the 
rest.  What  the  Grecian  touched,  became  gold,  though  be- 
fore it  had  been  but  a  baser  metal. 

But  if  the  popular  religion  of  the  Greeks  was  formed  by 
changing  the  character  of  foreign  gods,  in  what  did  the 
change  consist  ?  What  were  the  characteristics  of  the  Gre- 
cian assembly  of  divinities  ?  This  question  is  important, 
not  for  the  history  of  the  Grecian  religion  alone,  but  for  the 
general  history  of  religion  itself.  For  the  problem  is  no- 
thing less,  than  to  fix  on  the  essential  difference  between 
the  religion  of  the  ancient  eastern  and  western  world. 

This  characteristic  difference  may  yet  be  easily  discovered, 
and  may  be  reduced,  we  think,  to  a  single  head. 

All  inquiries  relative  to  the  divinities  of  the  East,  even 
though  the  explanations  of  individual  ones  may  be  various, 
lead  to  the  general  result,  that  objects  and  powers  of  nature 

*  Herod,  ii.  50. 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   III. 


ORIGINAL   SOURCES    OF   CULTURE. 


81 


lay  at  their  foundation.      These  may  have  been,  first,  cor- 
poreal objects,  the  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  the  earth,  the 
river  which  watered  the  country ;  or  they  may  have  been 
powers  of  nature,  a  creating,   a  preserving,  a  destroying 
power ;    or,  which  was  more  usual,  both  these  may  have 
been   combined ;    and   visible  objects   became  objects  of 
adoration,  in  so  far  as  they  were  the  expressions  of  a  creating 
or  destroying  power.     When  the  gods  of  the  Egyptians,  the 
Indians,  the  Persians,  the  Phrygians,  the  Phoenicians,  and 
others,  are  analyzed,  even  in  cases  where  the  interpretation 
remains  imperfect,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  some  idea  of 
this  kind  lay  at  the  bottom,  and  was  the  predominant  one. 
They  had  but   one  signification,  as  far  as  this  idea  was 
connected  with  it ;    and  the  sacred  traditions  and  mytholo- 
gical tales  respecting  them,  seem  to  us  without  meaning, 
because  we  have  so  often  lost  the  key  to  their  interpretation. 
"  The  Egyptians,"  Herodotus  relates,'  "  had  a  sacred  tradi- 
tion, that  Hercules  once  appeared  before  Ammon,  and  desired 
to  see  his  face.     Ammon  refused,  and  Hercules  continued 
his  entreaties ;  upon  this,  Ammon  slew  a  ram,  veiled  himself 
in  its  skin,  put  on  its  head,  and  in  this  plight  showed  him- 
self to  Hercules.     From  that  time  the  Thebans  ceased  to 
sacrifice  rams ;  only  once  a  year,  on  the  festival  of  Ammon, 
they  kill  a  single  one,  hang  its  skin  round  the  picture  of  the 
god,  and  show  at  the  same  time  the  picture  of  Hercules." 
Who  understands  this  story  and  this  festival  from  the  mere 
relation  ?     But  when  we  learn  that  the  ram,  opening  the 
Egyptian  year,  is  the  symbol  of  the  approaching  spring 
that  Hercules  is  the  sun  of  that  season  in  its  full  power,  the 
story,  as  well  as  the  festival,  is  explained  as  descriptive  of 
the  spring,  and  as  a  figurative  representation  of  the  season 
that  IS  beginning.     In  this,  as  in  similar  cases,  the  object  or 
r-  ver  ot  nature  was  exhibited  under  a  human  form:    for 
the  tendency  to  copy  that  form,  is  too  deeply  fixed  in  our 
natures ;  or  rather  it  results  immediately  from  the  limitations 
ot  the  same.     But  in  all  such  cases  in  the  East,  where  the 
human  form  was  attributed  to  the  gods,  it  was  but  a  secon- 
dary  affair,  the  indispensable  means  of  presenting  them  to 
the  senses.     It  was  never  any  thing  more.     And  this  is  the 

'  Herod,  ii.  42. 


fl 


reason,  why  no  hesitation  was  made  among  those  nations  to 
depart  from  this  human  form,  and  to  disfigure  it  whenever 
it  seemed  possible  to  give,  by  that  means,  a  greater  degree 
of  distinctness  to  the  symbolic  representation ;  or  if  any 
other  object  could  thus  be  more  successfully  accomplished. 
This  is  the  source  of  all  those  singular  shapes,  under  which 
the  gods  of  the  East  appear.  The  Indian  makes  no  scruple 
of  giving  his  gods  twenty  arms ;  the  Phrygian  represents 
his  Diana  with  as  many  breasts ;  the  Egyptian  gave  them 
the  heads  of  beasts.  Different  as  these  disfigurations  are,  they 
all  have  their  origin  in  this ;  the  human  form  was  but  a 
subordinate  object ;  the  chief  aim  was  the  distinct  represent- 
ation of  the  symbol,  under  a  form  suited  to  their  modes  of 
comprehension. 

As  the  Grecians  received  most  if  not  all  of  their  "gods 
from  abroad,  they  of  course  received  them  as  symbols  of 
those  natural  objects  and  powers ;  and  the  farther  we  look 
back  in  the  Grecian  theogony,  the  more  clearly  do  their 
gods  appear  as  such  beings.  He  who  reads  with  tolerable 
attention  the  earlier  systems  as  contained  in  Hesiod,  cannot 
mistake  this  for  a  moment ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied,  that 
there  are  traces  of  this  origin  in  the  gods  of  Homer.  That  his 
Jupiter  designates  the  ether,  his  Juno  the  atmosphere,  his 
Phoebus  Apollo  the  sun,  is  obvious  in  many  of  his  narra- 
tions. But  it  is  equally  obvious,  that  the  prevailing  repre- 
sentation with  him  is  not  the  ancient  symbolical  one,  that 
rather  his  Jupiter  is  already  the  ruler  of  gods  and  men,  his 
Juno  the  queen  of  Olympus. 

This  then  is  the  essential  peculiarity  of  the  popular  reli- 
gion of  the  Greeks ;  they  gradually  dismissed  those  sym- 
bolical representations,  and  not  only  dismissed  them,  but 
adopted  something  more  human  and  more  sublime  in  their 
stead.     The  gods  of  the  Greeks  were  moral  persons. 

When  we  call  them  moral  persons,  we  do  not  mean  to 
say,  that  a  higher  degree  of  moral  purity  was  attributed  to 
them  than  humanity  can  attain ;  (the  reverse  is  well  enough 
known  ;)  but  rather,  that  the  whole  moral  nature  of  man, 
with  Its  defects  and  its  excellencies,  was  considered  as  be- 
longing to  them,  only  with  the  additional  notions  of  superior 
physical  force,  a  more  delicately  organized  system,  and  a 
more  exalted,  if  not  always  a  more  beautiful  form.     But 


s^ 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  III. 


these  views  became  the  prevaiHng  ones,  the  views  of  the 
people  ;  and  thus  an  indestructible  wall  of  division  was 
placed  between  Grecian  and  foreign  gods.  The  former 
were  moral  beings ;  this  was  their  leading  character,  or 
rather  all  their  character ;  they  would  have  been  mere  names, 
if  this  had  been  taken  from  them ;  but  with  the  barbarians 
their  gods  remained  only  personifications  of  certain  objects 
and  powers  of  nature ;  and  hence  neither  a  moral  nature 
nor  character  belonged  to  them,  although  the  human  shape 
and  certain  actions  and  powers  were  attributed  to  them. 

Having  thus  illustrated  the  essential  difference  between 
the  Grecian  and  foreign  gods,  and  shown  in  what  the  trans- 
formation of  the  foreign  gods,  adopted  by  the  Grecians, 
consisted,  the  question  arises,  how  and  by  what  means  did 
that  transformation  take  place  ? 

^  By  means  of  poetry  and  the  arts.  Poetry  was  the  creat- 
ing power ;  the  arts  confirmed  the  representations  which 
she  had  called  into  being,  by  conferring  on  them  visible 
forms.  And  here  we  come  to  the  decisive  point,  from  which 
we  must  proceed  in  continuing  our  inquiry. 

''  Whence  each  of  the  gods  is  descended,  whether  thev 
have  always  existed,"  says  the  father  of  history,^  "and  how 
they  were  formed,  all  this  the  Grecians  have  but  recentlv 
known.  Hesiod  and  Homer,  whom  I  do  not  esteem  more 
than  four  hundred  years  older  than  I  am,  are  the  poets  who 
invented  for  the  Grecians  their  theogony ;  gave  the  ^ods 
their  epithets ;  fixed  their  rank  and  LupatiL ;  and^de' 
scribed  their  forms.  The  poets  who  are  said  to  have  lived 
before  these  men,  lived,  as  I  believe,  after  them." 

Ihis  remarkable  account  deserves  more  careful  attention 
Ihe  historian  expressly  remarks,  that  this  is  his  own  pre- 
sumption, not  the  assertion  of  others.      He  may  certainly 
have  been  mistaken ;   but  he  would  hardly  express  h3 

do  s7  wJ'  "t"  ^^  ^l'  '^'*^^^d  ^i--lf  SarrantTto 

of  s^ch  Z^rV'T'  ^''  ^P^"^"^  '^^'^^^'^  ^'  the  result 
ot  such  an  investigation  as  could  in  his  age  be  carried  on  • 
aiiii  can  we  do  more  than  he  ?  ^<*iiieu  on , 

1..  "heH?  "r''  "f  P'^*"^  '  ^"^  "^^"^^"y  understands 
^H  them  the  authors  of  the  poems  which  already  bore  their 

'  Herod,  ii.  53. 


ORIGINAL   SOURCES    OF  CULTURE. 


33 


names;  the  two  great  epic  poems  of  Homer,  and  at  least 
the  Theogony  of  Hesiod.  The  case  does  not  become 
changed,  even  if  those  productions  are,  agreeably  to  a  mo- 
dern opinion,  the  works  of  several  authors.  It  would  only 
be  necessary  to  say,  it  was  the  ancient  epic  poets  of  the 
schools  of  Homer  and  of  Hesiod,  who  formed  the  divine 
world  of  the  Greeks ;  and  perhaps  this  manner  of  expression 
is  at  all  events  the  more  correct.  For  it  would  be  difficult 
to  doubt  that  the  successors  of  those  poets  contributed  their 
share. 

According  to  the  assurances  of  Herodotus,  these  poets 
were  the  first  to  designate  the  forms  of  the  gods ;  that  is 
they  attributed  to  them,  not  merely  the  human  figure,  but 
the  human  figure  in  a  definite  shape.  They  distinguished, 
moreover,  their  kindred,  their  descent,  their  occupations ; 
they  also  defined  the  personal  relations  of  each  individual ; 
and  therefore  gave  them  the  epithets  which  were  borrowed 
from  all  this.  But  if  we  collect  these  observations  into  one, 
they  signify  nothing  less,  than  that  the  poets  were  the  au- 
thors of  the  popular  religion,  in  so  far  as  this  was  grounded 
on  definite  representations  of  the  several  divinities. 

This  is  not  intended  to  imply,  that  Homer  made  it  his 
object  to  be  the  creator  of  a  national  religion.  He  did  but 
make  a  poetic  use  of  the  previous  popular  belief  But  that 
poetic  spirit,  which  left  nothing  indistinctly  delineated  in 
the  heroes  whose  deeds  he  celebrated,  bringing  before  our 
eyes  the  persons  and  their  characters,  effects  the  same  with 
the  gods.  He  invented  his  divine  personages  as  little  as 
he  did  his  heroes ;  but  he  gave  their  character  to  the  one 
and  the  other.  The  circle  of  his  gods  is  limited  to  a  small 
number.  They  are  inhabitants  of  Olympus,  and  if  they  do 
not  all  belong  to  the  same  family,  they  yet  belong  to  the 
same  place ;  and  they  usually  live  together,  at  least,  when 
that  IS  required  by  the  purposes  of  the  poet.  Under  such 
circumstances,  an  inferior  poet  might  have  felt  the  necessity 
of  giving  them  individuality.  And  how  much  more  a 
Homer?  But  that  he  executed  this  in  so  perfect  a  manner, 
IS  to  be  ascribed  to  the  superiority  of  his  genius. 

Thus  the  popular  notions  entertained  of  the  gods  were 
first  established  by  Homer,  and  established  never  to  be 
changed.     His  songs  continued  to  live  in  the  mouth  of  the 


84 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  III. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


35 


nation ;  and  how  would  it  have  been  possible  to  efface  images, 
which  were  painted  with  such  strokes  and  colours  ?  Hesiod 
is  indeed,  named  with  him  ;  but  what  are  his  catalogues  of 
names  compared  with  the  living  pictures  of  Maeonides  ? 

In  this  manner,  by  means  of  the  epic  poets,  that  is,  al- 
most exclusively  by  means  of  Homer,  the  gods  of  the  Greeks 
were  raised  to  the  rank  of  moral  bemgs,  possessed  of  dehnite 
characters.  As  such  they  gained  life  in  the  conceptions  of 
the  people ;  and  however  much  may  have  been  invented 
respecting  them  in  the  poetry  of  a  later  age,  no  one  was 
permitted  to  represent  them  under  a,,  figure,  or  with  attri- 
butes inconsistent  with  the  popular  belief.  We  soon  per- 
ceive the  various  consequences,  which  this  must  have  had 
on  the  culture  and  improvement  of  the  nation. 

The  more  a  nation  conceives  its  gods  to  be  like  men,  the 
nearer  does  it  approach  them,  and  the  more  intimately  does 
it  live  with  them.  According  to  the  earliest  views  of  the 
Greeks,  the  gods  often  wandered  among  them,  shared  in 
their  business,  requited  them  with  good  or  ill,  in  conformity 
to  their  reception,  and  especially  to  the  number  of  presents 
and  sacrifices  with  which  they  were  honoured.  Those 
views  decided  the  character  of  religious  worship,  which  re- 
ceived from  them,  not  merely  its  forms,  but  also  its  life  and 
meaning.  How  could  this  worship  have  received  any  other 
than  a  cheerful,  friendly  character  ?  The  gods  were  grati- 
fied with  the  same  pleasures  as  mortals ;  their  delights  were 
the  same ;  the  gifts  which  were  offered  them  were  the  same 
which  please  men  ;  there  was  a  common,  a  correspondent 
enjoyment.  With  such  conceptions,  how  could  their  holi- 
days have  been  otherwise  than  joyous  ones  ?  And  as  their 
joy  was  expressed  by  dance  and  song,  both  of  these  neces- 
sarily became  constituent  parts  of  their  religious  festivals. 

It  is  another  question  :  What  influence  must  such  a  re- 
ligion have  had  on  the  morals  of  the  nation  ?  The  gods 
were  by  no  means  represented  as  pure  moral  beings,  but 
as  beings  possessed  of  all  human  passions  and  weaknesses. 
But  at  the  same  time  the  Greeks  never  entertained  the  idea, 
that  their  divinities  were  to  be  held  up  as  models  of  virtue ; 
and  hence  the  injury  done  to  morality  by  such  a  religion, 
however  warmly  the  philosophers  afterwards  spoke  against 
it,  could  hardly  have  been  so  great  as  we,  with  our  pre- 


possessions, should  have  at  first  imagined.     If  it  was  not 
declared  a  duty  to  become  like  the  gods,  no  excuse  for  the 
imitation  could  be  drawn  from  the  faults  and  crimes  attri- 
buted to  them.     Besides,  these  stories  were  esteemed,  even 
by  the  vulgar,  only  as  poetic  inventions,  and  there  was  little 
concern  about  their  truth,  or  their  want  of  truth.     There 
existed,  independent  of  those  tales,  the  fear  of  the  gods  as 
higher  beings,  who  on  the  whole  desired  excellence,  and 
abhorred  and  sometimes  punished  crime.     This  punishment 
was  inflicted  in  this  world ;    for  the  poets  and  the  people 
of  Greece  for  a  long  time  adopted  a  belief  in  no  punishment 
beyond  the  grave,  except  of  those  who  had  been  guilty  of 
direct  blasphemy  against  the  gods.^     The  system  of  morals 
was  on  the  whole  deduced  from  that  fear  of  the  gods,  but 
that  fear   especially  produced    the  observance   of  certain 
duties,  which  were  of  great  practical  importance,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, the  inviolable  character  of  suppliants,  (supplices,) 
who  stood  under  the  particular  protection  of  the  gods ;  the 
sanctity  of  oaths,  and  the  like ;  of  which  the  violation  was 
also  considered  as  a  direct  crime  against  the  gods.     Thus 
the  popular  religion  of  the  Greeks  was  no  doubt  a  support 
of  morality ;  though  never  in  the  same  degree  as  with  us. 
That  its  importance  was  felt  as  a  means  of  bridling  the 
licentiousness  of  the  people,  is  suflSciently  clear  from  the 
care  which  the  state  took  during  its  better  days  to  preserve 
the  popular  religion,  and  from  the  punishments  inflicted  on 
those  who  corrupted  it  or  denied  its  gods.     When  we  may 
name  the  popular  religion  of  the  Greeks  in  one  sense  a  re- 
ligion of  the  poets,  we  by  no  means  indulge  merely  in  a 
play  of  fancy.     But  if  the  influence  of  the  popular  religion 
on  the  moral  character  of  the  nation  should  be  differently 
estimated,  there  is  less  room  to  doubt  as  to  its  influence  on 
taste  ;  for  that  was  formed  entirely  by  the  popular  religion 
and  continued  indissolubly  united  with  it.  ' 

By  the  transformation  of  the  Grecian  divinities  into  mo- 
ral agents,  an  infinite  field  was  opened  for  poetic  invention, 
i^y  becoming  human,  the  gods  became  peculiarly  beings  for 
the  poets.     The  muse  of  the  moderns  has  attempted  to  re- 

tained^hvThP  r  ri^  V^  compare  an  essay  of  Heeren  on  the  notions  enter- 

ained  by  the  Greeks  of  rewards  and  punishments  after  death.    Heeren  •  Hifi- 

tonsche  Werke,  Th.  iii.  s.  214.  xieeren,  nis- 

D  2 


36 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  hi. 


nresent  the  Supreme  Being  in  action  ;  she  could  do  so  only 
^y  Slrhirn  as  far  as  possible  the  attributes  of  men  ;  with 
7hat  suc^cess  this  has  been  attended   is  known      It  was  m 
vain  to  endeavour  to  deceive  us  with  respec^t  to  the  cha  m 
which  lay  between  our  more  sublime  ideas  of  the  Divinity, 
and  the  image  under  which  he  was  represented.       But  the 
case  was  altogether  different  m  ancient  Greece.     The  poet 
was  not  only  allowed,  but  compelled  to  introduce  the  gods 
in  a  manner  consistent  with  popular  belief,  if  he  would  not 
fail  of  producing  the  desired  effect.     The  great  character- 
istics of'  human  nature  were  expressed  in  them  ;  they  were 
exhibited  as  so  many  definite  archetypes.     The  poet  might 
relate  of  them  whatever  he  pleased,  but  he  was  never  per- 
mitted to  alter  the  original  characters ;   whether  he  cele- 
brated their  own  actions,  or  introduced  them  as  participating 
in  the  exploits  of  mortals.     Although  themselves  immortal, 
they  always  preserved  the  human  character,  and  excited  a 
corresponding  interest ;    with  their  weaknesses  and  faults, 
they  stood  nearer  to  man,  than  if  they  had  been  represented 
as  possessing  the  perfection  of  moral  excellence. 

Thus  the  popular  rehgion  of  the  Greeks  was  thoroughly 
poetical.  There  is  no  need  of  a  long  argument  to  show, 
that  it  also  decided  the  character  of  Grecian  art,  by  afford- 
ing an  inexhaustible  supply  of  subjects. 

On  this  point  a  single  remark  only  needs  here  be  made. 
Among  the  nations  of  the  East,  the  plastic  art  not  only 
never  created  forms  of  ideal  beauty,  but  was  rather  exercised 
in  producing  hideous  ones.     The  monstrous  figures  of  their 
gods,  which  we  have  already  mentioned,  are  proofs  of  it. 
The  Grecian  artist  was  secure  against  any  thing  similar  to 
this,  now  that  their  gods  had  become  not  merely  physical, 
but  human,  moral  beings.      He  never  could  have  thought 
of  representing  a  Jupiter  or  a  Juno  with  ten  arms;  he 
would  have  destroyed  his  own  work,  by  offending  the  po- 
pular religious  notions.      Hence  he  was  forced  to  remain 
true  to  the  pure  human  figure,  and  was  thus  brought  very 
near  the  step,  which  was  to  raise  him  still  higher,  and  give 
ideal  beauty  to  his  images.     That  step  he  would  probably 
have  taken  without  assistance ;  but  the  previous  labours  of 
the  poets  made  it  more  natural  and  more  easy.     Phidias 
found  in  Homer  the  idea  of  his  Olympian  Jupiter,  and  the 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


37 


most  sublime  image  in  human  shape,  which  time  has  spared 
us,  the  Apollo  of  the  Vatican,  may  be  traced  to  the  same 
origin. 

Beside  the  popular  religion,  Greece  possessed  also  a  reli- 
gion of  the  initiated,  preserved  in  the  mysteries.  Whatever 
we  may  think  of  these  institutions,  and  whatever  idea  we 
may  form  of  them,  no  one  can  doubt  that  they  were  religious 
ones.  They  must  then  have  necessarily  stood  in  a  certain 
relation  to  the  religion  of  the  people ;  but  we  shall  not  be 
able  to  explain,  with  any  degree  of  probability,  the  nature 
of  that  relation,  until  we  trace  them  to  their  origin. 

We  must  preface  this  inquiry  with  a  general  remark.  All 
the  mysteries  of  the  Greeks,  as  far  as  we  are  acquainted 
with  them,  were  introduced  from  abroad ;  and  we  can  still 
point  out  the  origin  of  most  of  them.  Ceres  had  long  wan- 
dered over  the  earth,  before  she  was  received  at  Eleusis,  and 
erected  there  her  sanctuary.^  Her  secret  service  in  the 
Thesmophoria,  according  to  the  account  of  Herodotus,^  was 
first  introduced  by  Danaus,  who  brought  it  from  Egypt  to 
the  Peloponnesus.  Whether  the  sacred  rites  of  Orpheus 
and  Bacchus  originally  belonged  to  the  Thracians  or  the 
Egyptians,  they  certainly  came  from  abroad.  Those  of  the 
Curetes  and  the  Dactyli  had  their  home  in  Crete. 

It  has  often  been  said,  that  these  institutions  in  Greece 
suffered,  in  the  progress  of  time,  many  and  great  alterations, 
that  they  commonly  degenerated,  or  to  speak  more  correctly, 
that  the  Grecians  accommodated  them  to  themselves.  It 
was  not  possible  for  them  to  preserve  among  the  Greeks  the 
same  character  which  they  had  among  other  nations.  And 
here  we  are  induced  to  ask :    What  were  they  orip'inallv  ? 

TT  I'll!  J  ^  J 

now  were  they  introduced  and  preserved  in  Greece  ?  And 
what  relation  did  they  bear  to  the  popular  religion  ? 

The  answer  to  these  questions  is  contained  in  the  remarks 
which  we  have  already  made  on  the  transformation  and  ap- 
propriation of  foreign  gods  by  the  Hellenes.  Most  of  those 
go3s,  if  not  all  of  them,  were  received  as  symbolical,  phy- 
sical beings ;  the  poets  made  of  them  moral  agents ;  and 
as  such  they  appear  in  the  religion  of  the  people. 

*  Tsocrat.  Paneg.  op.  p.  46.  ed.  Steph.,  and  many  other  places  in  Meureii 
Eleusin.  cap.  i. 

'  Herod,  iv.  172. 


'*Vi»^ 


38 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    III. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


S9 


The  symbolical  meaning  would  have  been  lost,  if  no 
means  had  been  provided  to  insure  its  preservation.  The 
mysteries,  it  seems,  afforded  such  means  Their  great  end 
therefore  was,  to  preserve  the  knowledge  of  the  peculiar 
attributes  of  those  divinities,  which  had  been  incorporated 
into  the  popular  religion  under  new  forms;  what  powers 
and  objects  of  nature  they  represented  ;  how  these,  and  how 
the  universe  came  into  being ;  in  a  word,  cosmogonies,  like 
those  contained  in  the  Orphic  instructions.  But  this  know- 
ledge, though  it  was  preserved  by  oral  instruction,  was  per- 
petuated no  less  by  symbolic  representations  and  usages ; 
which,  at  least  in  part,  consisted  of  those  sacred  traditions  or 
fables,  of  which  we  have  already  made  mention.  "  In  the 
sanctuary  of  Sais,"  says  Herodotus,  "  representations  are 
given  by  night  of  the  adventures  of  the  goddess ;  and  these 
are  called  by  the  Egyptians  mysteries  ;  of  which,  however,  I 
will  relate  no  more.  It  was  from  thence  that  these  niyste- 
ries  were  introduced  into  Greece."  ^  If  we  find  in  this  the 
chief  design  of  the  mysteries,  we  would  by  no  means  assert, 
that  this  was  the  only  one.  For  who  does  not  perceive  how 
much  more  could  be  connected  with  it  ?  With  the  progress 
of  time  a  greater  variety  of  representations  may  have  arisen 
in  the  mysteries ;  their  original  meaning  might  perhaps  be 
gradually  and  entirely  lost ;  and  another  be  introduced  in 
its  stead.^ 

'  Herod.  1.  c. 

«  The  investigation  respecting  the  mysteries  is  a  most  extensive  one,  and 
yet  very  little  has  thus  far  been  ascertained,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  highly- 
valuable  work  of  St.  Croix,  especially  in  the  German  translation :  Versuch 
iiber  die  alten  Mysterien,  translated  by  Lenz,  1790.  I  refer  to  this  book  for 
the  necessary  proofs.  There  has  also  appeared  an  excellent  work  by  V. 
Ouwaroff:  Essai  sur  les  mysteres  d'Eleusis :  Troisi^me  Ed.  k  Paris,  1816. 
The  learned  author,  p.  65,  says :  "  Nous  avons  essay^  de  prouver,  que  les 
mysteres  religieux  de  la  Grece,  loin  d'etre  de  vaines  ceremonies,  enfermoient 
effectivement  quelques  restes  de  traditions  antiques,  et  formoient  la  veritable 
doctrine  esotenque  du  polytheisme."  With  this  we  agree;  at  the  same  time 
we  Umit  the  esoteric  doctrine  originally  to  the  meaning  which  the  divinities 
of  the  Greeks,  transformed  as  they  were  into  poetic  beings,  still  possessed  as 
representing  powers  of  nature;  yet  without  excluding  the  inferences  made 
above  in  the  text.  It  does  not  belong  to  the  political  historian  to  pursue 
this  investigation  any  farther ;  he  must  leave  it  to  the  student  of  the  history 
of  religions.  Yet  two  remarks  may  here  be  permitted.  First :  Homer  and 
Hesiod  say  nothing  of  mysteries ;  which  may  very  possibly  have  been  older 
than  those  poets,  but  are  thus  proved  to  have  had  in  their  time  less  import- 
ance than  they  afterwards  gained.  And  this  is  immediately  explained,  so 
soon  as  the  proper  object  of  the  mysteries  is  discovered,  by  making  the  differ- 
ence between  tne  popular  rehgion,  as  modified  by  the  poets,  and  the  more 


Those  passages  may  therefore  be  very  easily  explained, 
which  import  that  the  mysteries,  as  has  been  particularly 
asserted  of  those  of  Eleusis,  illustrated  the  superiority  of 
civilized  over  savage  life ;  the  invention  and  value  of  agri- 
culture, to  which  the  worship  of  physical  deities  had  imme- 
diate reference ;  and  gave  instructions  respecting  a  future 
life  and  its  nature.  For  what  was  this  more  than  an  inter- 
pretation of  the  sacred  traditions,  which  were  told  of  the 
goddess  as  the  instructress  in  agriculture,  of  the  forced 
descent  of  her  daughter  to  the  lower  world,  etc.  ?  And  we 
need  not  be  more  astonished,  if  in  some  of  their  sacred 
rites  we  perceive  an  excitement  carried  to  a  degree  of  en- 
thusiastic madness,  which  belonged  peculiarly  to  the  East, 
but  which  the  Hellenes  were  very  willing  to  receive.  For 
we  must  not  neglect  to  bear  in  mind  that  they  shared  the 
spirit  of  the  East;  and  did  they  not  live  on  the  very 
boundary  line  between  the  East  and  the  West  ?  As  those 
institutions  were  propagated  farther  to  the  West,  they  lost 
their  original  character.  We  know  what  the  Bacchanalian 
rites  became  at  Rome  ;  and  had  they  been  introduced  north 
of  the  Alps,  what  form  would  they  have  there  assumed  ? 
But  to  those  countries  it  was  possible  to  transplant  the  vine, 
not  the  service  of  the  god  to  whom  the  vine  was  sacred. 
The  orgies  of  Bacchus  suited  the  cold  soil  and  inclement 
forests  of  the  north,  as  little  as  the  character  of  its  in- 
habitants. 

The  secret  doctrines  which  were  taught  in  the  mysteries, 
may  have  finally  degenerated  into  mere  forms  and  an  un- 
meaning ritual.  And  yet  the  mysteries  exercised  a  great 
influence  on  the  spirit  of  the  nation,  not  of  the  initiated 
only,  but  also  of  the  great  mass  of  the  people ;  and  perhaps 
they  influenced  the  latter  still  more  than  the  former. 
They  preserved  the  reverence  for  sacred  things ;  and  this 
gave  them  their  political  importance.  They  produced  that 
effect  better  than  any  modern  secret  societies.  The  myste- 
ries had  their  secrets,  but  not  every  thing  connected  with 

ancient  physical  religion  of  the  East.  Secondly :  Diodor.  I.  p.  393.  The 
mysteries  introduced  from  Crete,  are  said  to  have  constituted  the  public 
worship  of  the  Cretans.  It  was  in  Greece,  then,  that  they  first  came  to  be 
mysteries.  This,  too,  can  hardly  be  more  naturally  explained,  than  by  the 
departure  of  the  popular  religion,  as  established  by  the  poets,  from  the  other 
more  ancient  one. 


40 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  III. 


them  was  secret.  They  had,  Hke  those  of  Eleusis,  their 
public  festivals,  processions,  and  pilgrimages;  in  which 
none  but  the  initiated  took  a  part,  but  of  which  no  one  was 
prohibited  from  being  a  spectator.  Whilst  the  multitude 
was  permitted  to  gaze  at  them,  it  learned  to  believe,  that 
there  was  something  sublimer  than  any  thing  with  which  it 
was  acquainted,  revealed  only  to  the  initiated  ;  and  while  the 
worth  of  that  sublimer  knowledge  did  not  consist  in  secrecy 
alone,  it  did  not  lose  any  of  its  value  by  being  concealed. 

Thus  the  popular  religion  and  the  secret  doctrines,  al- 
though always  distinguished  from  each  other,  united  in 
serving  to  curb  the  people.  The  condition,  and  the  in- 
fluence of  religion  on  a  nation,  are  always  closely  connected 
with  the  situation  of  those  persons,  who  are  particularly 
appointed  for  the  service  of  the  gods,  the  priests.  The 
regulations  of  the  Greeks  concerning  them,  deserve  the 
more  attention,  since  many  unimportant  subjects  of  Grecian 
antiquity  have  been  treated  with  an  almost  disproportionate 
expense  of  industry  and  erudition ;  but  with  respect  to  the 
priesthood  of  the  nation,  we  are  as  yet  left  without  any  in- 
vestigation, corresponding  to  the  importance  of  the  subject.^ 
The  very  abundance  of  matter  renders  it  the  more  difficult, 
for  very  little  can  be  expressed  in  general  terms;  and  many 
changes  were  brought  about  by  time. 

During  the  heroic  age,  we  learn  of  Homer,  that  there 
were  priests,  who  seem  to  have  devoted  themselves  exclu- 
sively to  that  vocation.  We  readily  call  to  mind  a  Calchas, 
a  Chryses,  and  others.  But  even  in  that  age,  such  priests 
appear  but  individually ;  no  longer  in  colleges  or  societies, 
as  the  colonies  of  priests  may  have  been,  when  in  earlier 
times  they  migrated  into  Greece ;  and  it  does  not  appear 
that  their  influence  over  the  rest  of  the  people  was  very 
great  and  important.  The  sacred  rites  in  honour  of  the 
gods  were  not  performed  by  them  alone;  they  were  not 
even  needed  at  the  public  solemnities.  The  leaders  and 
commanders  themselves  offer  their  sacrifices,^  perform  the 
prayers,  and  observe  the  signs  which  indicated  the  result  of 

*  The  Prolegomena  to  a  Scientific  Mythology,  by  C.  O.  Miiller,  p.  249,  etc., 
contain  the  outlines  for  the  inquiry,  and  agree  with  the  remarks  made 
above. 

'  Instead  of  all  other  passages,  see  the  description  of  the  sacrifices  which 
Nestor  makes  to  Pallas.    Od.  iii.  430,  etc. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


41 


an  undertaking.     In  a  word,  kings  and  leaders  were  at  the 
same  time  priests. 

Traces  of  these  very  ancient  regulations  were  preserved 
for  a  long  time  among  the  Greeks.     The  second  Archon  at 
Athens,  who  presided  at  the  public  ceremonies  of  worship, 
was  called  the  king,  because  he  had  to  prepare  the  sacred 
rites,  which  were  formerly  regulated  by  the  kings.     He  had 
his  assistants ;  and  it  was  necessary  for  his  spouse  to  be  of 
irreproachable  character,  as  she  also  had  secret  religious 
services  to  perform.     He  was,  however,  like  the  other  Ar- 
chons,  annually  appointed,  and  the  election  was  made  by 
lot.^     The  priests  and  priestesses  of  the  several  divinities 
were  for  the  most  part  chosen.     But  the  priestesses  could 
be  married,  and  the  priests  seem  by  no  means  to  have  been 
excluded  by  their  station  from  participating  in  the  offices 
and  occupations  of  citizens.     There  were  some  sacerdotal 
offices,  which  were  hereditary  in   certain  families.     But 
the  number  of  them  seem  to  have  been  inconsiderable. 
In  Athens,  the  Eumolpidae  possessed  the  privilege,  that  the 
hierophant,  or  first  director  of  the  Eleusinian  rites,  as  well 
as  the   other   three,^  should  be  taken  from  their  family. 
But  the  place  of  hierophant  could  not  be  obtained  except 
by  a  person  of  advanced  years ;  and  those  other  offices 
were   probably   not  occupied   during  life,   but  frequently 
assigned  anew.^    How  far  the  same  was  true  in  other  cases, 
is  but  seldom  related.     At  Delphi,  the  first  of  the  oracles  of 
the  Hellenes,  the  Pythian  priestess  was  chosen  from  among 
the  women  of  the  city ;  *  and  was  obliged  to  have  no  inter- 
course with  men.     It  is  hardly  probable  from  the  extreme 
exertions  connected  with  the  delivery  of  oracles,  that  the 
same   person  could   long  fill  the   place.     Here,   as   else- 
where, people  were  appointed  for  the  service  without  the 
temple,  some  of  whom,  like  Ion  in  Euripides,  belonged  to 
the  god  or  the  temple,  and  were  even  educated  within  its 
limits.     But  the  service  within  the  temple  was  performed 
by  the  most  considerable  citizens  of  Delphi,  who   were 

^  'See  the  important  passage  in  Demosthenes,  in  Neaer.  Op.  ii.  p.  1370,  ed. 

♦1,' ^^^i_^^?"*^^"^'  ^^  torch-bearer  J  the  Hieroceryx,  or  sacred  herald :  and 
ine  ii^pibomius,  who  served  at  the  altar. 

!  S^*  9^P^^  h^s  collected  examples  in  his  Essay  on  the  Ancient  Mysteries. 
Eunpid.  Ion,  v.  1320.  j  «^     »• 


42 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  III. 


[ 


chosen  by  lot.'  The  sanctuary  of  Dodona,  where  the  re- 
sponses of  the  oracle  were  made,  as  at  Delphi  and  in  other 
temples,  by  priestesses,  seems  to  have  belonged  to  the  family 
of  the  Selli,  of  which  Homer  had  heard ; '  but  we  have  no 
particular  accounts  respecting  the  situation  of  that  family. 

The  regulations  respecting  priests,  proposed  by  Plato  in 
his  books  on  laws,^  show  most  clearly,  that  the  ideas  of  the 
Greeks  required,  that  the  offices  of  priests  should  not  long 
be  filled  by  the  same  persons.  "  Let  the  election  of  the 
priests,"  says  he,  "  be  committed  to  the  god,  by  referring 
the  appointment  to  lot ;  those  on  whom  the  lot  falls,  must 
submit  to  an  examination.  But  each  priesthood  shall  be 
filled  for  one  year  only,  and  no  longer,  by  the  same  person ; 
he  who  fills  it,  may  not  be  less  than  sixty  years  old.  The 
same  rule  shall  apply  to  the  priestesses." 

We  infer  from  all  this,  that,  though  the  regulations  re- 
specting the  priesthood  were  not  the  same  in  all  parts  of 
Greece,  that  office  was  commonly  filled  for  a  limited  time 
only,  was  regarded  as  a  place  of  honour,  to  which,  as  to  the 
other  mysteries,  appointments  were  made  by  lot,  with  an 
examination,  and  was  subjected  to  the  same  rotation  with 
the  rest.  They  to  whom  it  was  intrusted,  were  taken  from 
the  class  of  active  citizens,  to  which  they  again  returned ; 
and  even  whilst  they  were  priests,  they  were  by  no  means 
withdrawn  from  the  regular  business  of  civil  life.*  The 
priesthood  did  not  gain  even  that  degree  of  firmness  which 
it  had  at  Rome ;  where  the  priests,  though  they  were  not 
separated  from  secular  pursuits,  formed  separate  colleges, 
like  those  of  the  Pontifices  and  Augurs  ;  and  the  members 
of  whom  were  chosen  for  life.  Since  the  priesthood  then, 
among  the  Hellenes  in  general,  and  in  the  several  states, 
never  formed  a  distinct  order,  it  could  not  possess  the  spirit 
of  a  party,  and  it  was  quite  impossible  for  any  thing  like 
priestcraft  to  prevail.  Religion  and  public  acts  of  worship 
were  so  far  considered  holy  and  inviolable,  that  they  were 

^  See  the  important  passage  in  Euripid.  Ion,  414:  "  I,"  says  Ion,  speaking 
to  the  foreigner  on  the  service  of  the  temple,  "  I  have  charge  only  of  the  outer 
part ;  the  interior  belongs  to  them  who  sit  near  the  tripod,  the  first  of  the 
Delphians  whom  the  lot  selected." 

'  II.  XV.  235.  •  Plato,  de  Leg.  1.  vi.  Op.  viii.  p.  266.  Bip. 

Not  even  from  the  duties  of  war.  The  Daduchus  Callias  fought  at  the 
battle  of  Marathon  in  his  costume  as  a  priest.  Plutarch  in  Aristid.  Op.  ii. 
p.  491,  ed.  Reiske. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


43 


protected  by  the  state ;  and  that  a  degree  of  intolerance 
was  produced,   which  led  even  to  injustice  and    cruelty 
But  we  do  not  find  that  the  priests  were  peculiarly  active 
m   such   cases.     It  was  the  people  which  believed  itself 
injured;  or  a  political  party;  or  individual  dema^offues 
who  had  some  particular  object  in  view.^  ' 

As  the  priests  of  the  Greeks  formed  no  distinct  class  in 
society,  It  is  evident,  that  they  could  have  no  such  secret 
system  of  instructions,  as  was  possessed  by  those  of  Egypt 
No   such    system   can    therefore   be   contrasted   with   the 
popular  religion ;    instead  of  it  there  were  the  mysteries  • 
but  the  initiated  were  not  all  of  them  priests,  nor  was  it 
necessary  for  every  priest  to  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries 
Any  could  be  admitted  to  them,  whose  condition  in  life 
and  behaviour,  were  found  to  deserve  the  distinction. 

These  regulations  led  to  important  consequences.     There 
was  m  the  nation  no  separate  class,  which  claimed  an  ex- 
clusive right  to  certain  branches  of  scientific  and  intellectual 
culture;  and  preserved  that  exclusive  right  by  means  of 
written  characters,  intelligible  only  to  themselves.     That 
which  should  be  the  common  property,  and  is  the  noblest 
common  property  of  humanity,  was  such  among  the  Greeks. 
And  this  made  It  possible  to  unfold  with  freedom  the  spirit  of 
philosophy      The  oldest  philosophy  of  the  Greeks,  as  it  ap- 
peared  at  first  in  the  Ionic  school,  may  have  originally  stood 
in  close  union  with  religion,  and  may  indeed  have  proceeded 
rom  It ;  for  who  does  not  perceive  the  near  connexion  be- 
tween speculations  on  the  elements  of  things,  and  those  an- 
cient representations  of  the  gods  as  powers  or  objects  of 
nature.     But  religion  could  not  long  hold  philosophy  in 
chains.     It  could  not  prevent  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry  from 
awakening  and  gaining  strength  ;  and  hence  it  was  possible 
tor  all  those  sciences,  which  are  promoted  by  that  spirit  to 
assume  among  the  Greeks  a  decided  and  peculiar  character. 
In  the  intellectual  culture  of  the  East,  all  scientific  know- 
ledge IS  connected  with  religion ;  but  as  these  were  kept 

tion^oTfh!!  Mv=r-'''''7r^^^  *^^  ^"^^^^"  of  Andocides  on  the  Profana- 

SibiadL  a^rhirfriPnt  "''^T^  ^^  '^^  weU-known  accusation  of 

tivein  tW  ol-     -5       1'^^  ^         ""'^  ''''^  ^"^^  t^at  a  political  party  was  ac 
tive  m  that  aflair,  it  would  hardly  seem  intelligible  to  us.     It  ffives  a  remark 
able  proof  of  the  ease  with  which  the  passions  of  the  Athe^ans  miX  iL 
aroused,  when  any  attack  was  made  on  the  things  they  deS  sacrTdf 


44 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap,  hi* 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


45 


separate  by  the  Greeks,  science  gained  among  them  that  in- 
dependent character,  which  distinguishes  the  West,  and 
which  was  communicated  to  the  nations  of  whom  the  Greeks 

were  the  instructors. 

As  the  priests  never  formed  a  distinct  order,  and  still 
less  a  caste,  in  Greece,  the  religion  never  became  a  reli- 
gion of  state  to  such  a  degree  as  in  other  countries.  It  was 
sometimes  subservient  to  public  policy,  but  never  became  a 
slave  to  it.  The  dry,  prosaic  religion  of  the  Romans  could 
be  used  or  abused  to  such  purposes ;  but  that  of  the  Greeks 
was  much  too  poetical.  The  former  seems  to  have  existed 
only  for  the  sake  of  the  state ;  and  the  latter,  even  when  it 
was  useful  to  the  state,  appears  to  have  rendered  none  but 
voluntary  services.  The  Patricians  confined  the  popular 
religion  of  Rome  within  the  strict  limits  of  a  system  ;  but  in 
Greece,  religion  preserved  its  freedom  of  character. 


COLONISTS    FROM    ABROAD. 

The  race  of  the  Hellenes  was  always  the  prevalent  one  in 
Greece ;  but  it  was  by  no  means  unmixed.  The  superior 
advantages  of  the  country  invited  foreign  emigrations, 
and  its  situation  facilitated  them.  Many  nations  of  Thra- 
cian,  Carian,  and  Illyrian  origin,  descended  at  different 
times  from  the  North  by  land.^  These  colonists,  at  least 
such  as  remained  in  the  country,  may  by  degrees  have  been 
amalgamated  with  the  Hellenes ;  but,  being  themselves  bar- 
barians, they  could  not  have  contributed  much  towards 
softening  the  manners  of  the  nation ;  although  the  poets  of 
Thrace,  an  Orpheus  and  his  school  of  bards,  and  Linus  and 
others,  were  not  without  influence  on  them.  The  case  was 
far  different  with  those  who  came  by  sea.  Greece,  as  we 
observed  in  a  former  chapter,^  was  surrounded  at  no  great 
distance  by  the  most  cultivated  nations  of  the  western  world, 
which  nations  were  more  or  less  devoted  to  commerce  and 
the  founding  of  colonies.  This  is  well  known  to  have  been 
the  character  of  the  Phoenicians,  and  it  is  equally  certain 
that  it  was  so  of  the  inhabitants  of  Asia  Minor ;  and  traces  of 
Egyptian  colonies  are  found  no  less  in  Europe  than  in  Asia. 

'  Their  names  are  for  the  most  part  mentioned  by  Strabo,  1.  vii.  p.  494. 
'  Compare  the  close  of  chapter  first. 


If  no  accounts  had  been  preserved  of  colonies  of  those  na- 
tions, emigrating  to  Greece,  they  would  of  themselves  have 
seemed  highly  probable.  But  we  are  so  far  from  being 
without  accounts  of  this  kind,  that  they  have  been  much 
more  accurately  preserved,  than  the  remoteness  of  time 
and  the  condition  of  the  nation  would  have  authorized 
us  to  expect.  The  memory  of  them  could  not  become 
extinct,  for  their  consequences  were  too  lasting;  and  if 
events  which  for  so  long  a  time  were  preserved  by  nothing 
but  tradition,  are  differently  related  and  sometimes  highly 
coloured,  the  critical  student  of  history  can  hardly  make  any 
valid  objections  against  their  general  truth,  if  the  narratives 
are  interpreted  as  the  mythical  language  of  extreme  an- 
tiquity requires.  The  first  of  the  foreign  colonies,  which 
are  mentioned  as  having  arrived  by  sea,  is  that  which,  under 
the  direction  of  Cecrops,  came  from  Sais  in  Lower  Egypt 
to  Attica ;  ^  fifty  years  later,  Danaus  led  his  colony  from 
Chemmis  in  Upper  Egypt,  to  Argos  in  the  Peloponnesus. 
These  emigrations  took  place  at  the  period  in  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  most  probable  chronological  reckoning,  the 
great  revolutions  in  Egypt  were  effected  by  the  expulsion  of 
the  Arabian  nomades ;  and  the  kingdom  was  restored  to  its 
liberty  and  independence ;  a  period,  in  which  emigrations 
were  at  least  not  improbable.  The  colony  which,  as  Hero- 
dotus relates,  was  brought  by  Cadmus,  together  with  the 
alphabet,  from  Phoenicia  to  Greece,^  needs  no  further  proof, 
when  we  learn  how  extensive  were  the  colonies  of  that  na- 
tion ;  we  are  only  astonished,  that  we  hear  of  but  one  such 
in  Greece  ;  since  the  common  course  of  things  would  rather 
lead  us  to  expect  a  continued  immigration,  such  as  took 

'  This  is  supposed  to  have  taken  place  about  1550  years  before  Christ. 
The  immigration  by  Cecrops  from  Egypt,  is  questioned  by  the  investigations 
of  C.  0.  Muller,  in  the  History  of  the  Hellenic  Tribes  and  Cities,  i.  p.  106,  etc., 
inasmuch  as  Theopompus  is  the  earliest  writer  who  mentions  it.  But  Theo- 
pompus  must  have  had  before  him  an  earlier  authority.  That  a  belief  in  a 
relationship  with  the  Egyptians  is  as  old  as  the  age  of  Solon,  appears  to  me 
certain,  from  the  narration  of  Plato  in  Timaeus  (Op.  ix.  p.  293,  etc.,  ed.  Bip.). 
Further  inquiries  respecting  the  influence  of  Egypt  on  Greece,  on  which 
opinions  are  now  so  divided,  will  probably  lead  to  the  conclusion,  that  the 
truth  is  in  the  middle.  Want  of  land,  excessive  population,  and  revolutions, 
which  are  the  chief  causes  of  emigration,  existed  no  where  in  the  old  world  in 
more  force  than  in  Effypt,  and  particularly  at  the  time  assigned  for  the 
emigration  of  Cecrops,  during  the  dominion  and  after  the  expulsion  of  the 
Hycsos  from  Lower  Egypt.  *  Herod,  v.  58. 


/ 


46 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  III. 


place  in  the  islands,  which  became  almost  entirely  Phceni- 
cian.  Even  this  doubt  vanishes,  when  we  regard  Cadmus, 
not  as  a  person,  but  as  the  symbol  of  the  Phoenician  colonies 
in  Greece  ;  although  the  early  and  distinct  notices  of  Cad- 
mus in  Herodotus,  render  it  difficult  to  give  up  the  usual 
representation.  Nor  should  we  forget  the  establishment 
made  by  Pelops  of  Lydia  in  the  peninsula  which  bears  his 
name.^  That  also  was  occasioned  by  the  events  of  war. 
Tantalus,  the  father  of  Pelops,  having  been  driven  from  Ly- 
dia by  Ilus,  king  of  Troy,  sought  and  found  in  Argos  a  place 
of  refijge  for  himself  and  his  treasures. 

Yet  very  different  answers  have  been  given  to  the  question, 
What  influence  had  the  emigration  of  those  foreign  colonists 
on  the  culture  of  the  Greeks  ?  And  more  have  denied  than 
have  conceded,  that  such  an  influence  was  exerted.  Where 
cultivated  nations  make  establishments  in  the  vicinity  of 
barbarians,  it  would  be  wrong  to  infer  directly  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  latter,  unless  it  be  confirmed  by  distinct  evidence. 
The  aborigines  of  America  have  been  for  more  than  two 
centuries  the  immediate  neighbours  of  civilized  Europeans, 
and  yet  how  httle  have  they  adopted  from  them  !  And  if 
doubts  were  entertained  in  the  case  of  the  Greeks,  it  was 
chiefly  because  their  whole  national  culture  was  so  remark- 
ably different  from  that  of  those  Eastern  nations,  that  the 
former  could  hardly  seem  much  indebted  to  the  latter. 

Yet  the  testimony  of  the  Greeks  themselves  proves  such 
an  influence  too  clearly  to  be  doubted.  Cecrops  is  expressly 
mentioned,  as  having  first  established  domestic  union  among 
the  inhabitants  of  Attica,  by  the  introduction  of  regular 
marriages ;  and  as  having  built  the  citadel  which  afterwards 
bore  his  name.  The  same  is  true  of  the  citadel  which  Cad- 
mus built  in  Thebes ;  and  if  we  interpret  the  account  of 
Herodotus  respecting  the  introduction  of  the  alphabet  by 
him,  to  mean  only,  that  the  Hellenes  were  indebted  for  it  to 
the  Phoenicians,  (which  on  the  whole  can  hardly  be  doubted,) 
the  case  would  not  be  changed.  And  if  Pelops  not  only 
emigrated  to  Argos  with  his  treasures,  but  gave  his  name  to 
the  peninsula,  the  facts  admit  of  no  other  interpretation 
than  that  his  emigration  was  productive  of  the  most  import- 
ant consequences. 

'  Strabo,  p.  222. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


47 


But  further.  These  foreigners  not  only  became  princes 
themselves,  but  made  the  royal  power  hereditary  in  their  fa- 
milies. The  earliest  kings  of  Attica,  Pandion,  iEgeus, 
Theseus,  were  all  descended  from  the  house  of  Cecrops,  al- 
though only  by  the  female  side.  Perseus  and  his  heroic 
family  sprung  in  like  manner  from  the  family  of  Danaus. 
When  we  name  Cadmus,  we  remember  at  the  same  time  his 
descendants,  the  favourites  of  the  tragic  muse,  Laius,  OEdi- 
pus,  Eteocles,  and  Polynices,  the  rulers  of  Thebes.  But  the 
posterity  of  Pelops,  the  house  of  Atrides,  excelled  all  the  rest 
in  fame  as  in  naisfortunes.  In  this  manner  the  traditional  his- 
toiy  of  the  nation  is  principally  dependent  on  these  families 
from  abroad ;  they  were  not  only  the  oldest  rulers,  but  the 
memory  of  them  continued  to  live  in  the  mouth  of  the  people 
from  age  to  age ;  till  the  tragic  poets  conferred  on  them  im- 
mortality. It  is  impossible  that  such  a  continued  dominion 
of  those  families  should  have  had  no  influence  on  the  nation. 
To  assert  it  would  be  to  assert  what  is  inconsistent  with  the 
natural  course  of  things. 

If  these  immigrations  seem  to  have  been  occasioned  by 
political  causes,  others  had  their  origin  in  religion.  In  mo- 
dern times  the  savage  nature  of  barbarians  has  been  tamed 
by  missions;  but  although  antiquity  knew  and  could  know 
n#ne  such,  the  early  part  of  our  present  inquiries  proves, 
that  political  and  mercantile  ends  were  none  the  less  con- 
nected with  sanctuaries  and  oracles.  Greece  received  its 
colonies  of  priests ;  by  which  we  mean  the  establishments  of 
sanctuaries  by  foreigners,  who  brought  with  them  their  own 
peculiar  forms  of  worship.  The  Homeric  hymn  to  Apollo 
affords  a  remarkable  proof,  that  such  institutions  were  en- 
tirely in  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  Grecian  world.  When  the 
Pythian  god  was  establishing  his  oracle  at  Delphi,  he  beheld 
on  the  sea  a  merchant-ship  from  Crete;  this  he  directs  to 
Crissa,  and  appoints  the  foreigners  the  servants  of  his  newly- 
established  sanctuary,  near  which  they  settled  and  abode.^ 
When  this  story,  which  we  would  not  affirm  to  be  historically 
true,  is  stripped  of  the  language  of  poetry,  it  can  only  mean, 
that  a  Cretan  colony  founded  the  temple  and  oracle  of 
Delphi.  And  the  account  given  by  Herodotus  of  the  Egyp- 
tian origin  of  the  oracle  of  Dodona,  ceases  to  surprise  us/ 

*  Homer.  Hymn,  in  Apoll.  390,  etc.        ^  jjerod.  ii.  54. 


48 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.  III. 


although  that  oracle  owes  its  establishment  to  another  cause, 
the  Phoenician  slave-trade,  by  means  of  which  two  conse- 
crated women  were  carried,  the  one  to  Ammonmm  in  Li- 
bya, the  other  to  Dodona.  If  we  knew  more  certamly  who 
the  Selli  were,  who  are  thought  to  have  been  a  branch  of 
the  Pelasgi,  and  are  said  by  Homer  ^  to  have  been  the 
servants  of  the  god,  and  in  possession  of  the  oracle,  we 
should  probably  be  able  to  say  more  than  we  now  can  re- 
specting its  history.  That  it  was  of  Egyptian  origin,  is  ac- 
knowledged not  only  by  the  sacred  traditions  of  Dodona, 
but  also  by  those  of  Egypt.  It  was  impossible  for  these  set- 
tlements to  assume  in  Greece  the  aspect  which  they  took  in 
Africa.  The  character  of  the  country  and  the  spirit  of  the 
people  were  alike  opposed  to  it ;  for  though  the  popular  re- 
ligion in  Greece  was  not  wholly  unconnected  with  politics, 
the  state  had  never,  as  in  Egypt,  been  founded  entirely  up- 
on religion.  But  those  settlements  became  the  central  point 
of  societies  of  nations ;  they  subsisted  as  oracles ;  of  which 
the  Greek  stood  in  need  both  in  public  and  private  life. 

Similar  sacred  institutions  arose  very  early  on  several 
of  the  islands  round  Greece,  and  were  transplanted  from 
them  to  the  continent.  Those  of  Crete  and  Samothrace 
were  the  most  important.  The  first  of  these  islands  occupies, 
in  many  points  of  view,  a  very  important  place  in  the  most 
ancient  history  of  Grecian  culture ;  but  the  culture,  which 
sprung  up  in  Crete,  seems  rather  to  have  produced  early 
blossoms  than  later  fruits.  All  that  we  know  of  the  glory 
of  Crete,  belongs  to  the  age  of  Homer  and  the  preceding 
times.^  The  period  in  which  they  cleared  the  sea  of  rob- 
bers ;  exercised  supremacy  over  the  islands,  and  a  part  of 
the  country  on  the  shore,  even  of  Attica ;  and  received  their 
laws  from  Minos,  the  familiar  friend  of  Jove,  belongs  to  so 
remote  an  age,  that  it  affords  less  room  for  certainty  than  for 
conjecture.  But  Crete  still  appears  in  Homer  so  flourishing, 
that  hardly  a  country  on  the  continent  could  be  compared 
with  it.^  The  situation  of  this  large  island  can  alone  serve 
to  explain  how  it  came  to  precede  Hellas  in  culture.     It 

» II.  xvi.  234. 

*  See  the  rich  compilation  of  Meursius ;  Crete,  Cyprus,  Rhodes,  1675. 
•  Crete  awes  the  circling  waves,  a  fruitful  soil, 
And  ninety  cities  crown  the  sea-born  isle. 

Od.  xix.  172,  etc.  5  in  Pope,  196,  etc. 


ORIGINAL  SOURCES  OF  CULTURE. 


49 


lay  at  almost  equal  distances  from  Egypt,  Phoenicia,  and 
Greece.     If  it  was,  as  we  are  told,  the  country  of  brass  and 
iron,  and  if  these  metals  were  first  manufactured  there,^  the 
obscurity  which  covered  the  oldest  tradition  is  at  once  re- 
moved.     Late  investigations  have,  however,  led  to  more 
discriminating  views ;    for  they  have  shown,  that  by  con- 
founding the  Ida  of  Phrygia  or  Asia  Minor,  with  the  Ida  of 
Crete,  many  things  have  been  applied  to  the  latter,  which 
should  have  been  restricted  to  the  former.^     The  prevailing 
minerals  in  Crete  do  not  contain  brass  and  iron  f  and  Crete 
has,  therefore,  been  improperly  regarded  as  the  country  of 
these  metals.     But  they  are  found  in  the  Ida  of  Phrygian 
Lydia ;  and  that  there  was  also  the  home  of  the  fabulous 
personages,  the  Dactyli  and  Curetes,  to  whom  tradition  at- 
tributes the  first  acquisition  and  working  of  iron,  is  apparent 
even  from  the  account  in  Strabo.*    Yet  they  and  their  wor- 
ship were  transplanted  to  Crete ;  and  with  them  the  working 
of  iron,  which,  though  not  originating  in  Crete,  could  easily 
have  been  introduced  from  Asia  Minor  and  Cyprus.     Nor 
can  any  one,  who  is  familiar  with  the  origin  of  the  ancient 
religions  of  nature,  be  surprised  to  find  this  earliest  metal- 
lurgy connecting   itself  with  a  worship,  which  generated 
sacred  usages  and  mysteries.^     As  far  as  we  can  judge,  the 
immigration  of  the  Dactyli  and  Curetes  into  Crete  belongs 
to  the  age  before  Minos  f   and  if  manufactures  of  iron  and 
brass  were  established  there,  the  immigration  into  the  island 
from  various  quarters,  by  the  Pelasgi,  Hellenes,  and  Phoe- 
nicians, are  easily  explained.'^ 

'  The  most  important  passage  in  Diodor.  v.  p.  381. 

*  Hoeck's  Kreta,  I.  Band. 

"  Hoeck,  I.  42,  and  the  appendix  by  Hausmann  on  the  character  of  the 
geological  formations  of  Crete,  p.  443. 

*  Strabo,  p.  725,  and  Hoeck,  284. 

Diod.  I.  p.  381.     So  too  the  workmen  in  the  mines  of  Germany  abound 
m  superstitions. 

*  Hoeck,  I.  359,  first  appendix. 

'  They  are  enumerated  chronologically  by  Diodorus,  I.  p.  382.     Hoeck,  I. 
02,  proves  that  no  evidence  exists  of  immigrations  from  Egypt 


60 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[CHAP.   IV. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  HEBOIC  AGE-THE  TROJAN  WAR. 

Although  the  history  of  the  progress  of  the  Greek  nation 
during  the  early  period  of  its  culture,  is  imperfect  and 
fragmentary,  the  progress  itself  is  certain.  In  the  age  which 
we  best  designate  in  the  spirit  of  the  nation  by  the  name  of 
the  Heroic  Age,  and  which  extends  from  about  the  thir- 
teenth to  the  eleventh  century  before  the  Christian  era,  we 
find  them  advanced  to  a  far  higher  degree  of  civilization, 
than  that  of  which  by  their  own  accounts  they  were  possessed 
before.  The  poet  who  delineates  them  in  that  stage  is  never 
untrue  to  the  poetic  character  ;  and  yet  Homer  was  regarded 
even  by  the  ancients  as  of  historical  authority ;  and,  to  a 
certain  point,  deserved  to  be  so  regarded.  Truth  was  his 
object  in  his  accounts  and  descriptions,  as  far  as  it  can  be 
the  object  of  a  poet,  and  even  in  a  greater  degree  than  was 
necessary,  when  he  distinguishes  the  earlier  and  later  times 
or  ages.  He  is  the  best  source  of  information  respecting 
the  heroic  age ;  and  since  that  source  is  so  copious,  there  is 
no  need  of  drawing  from  any  other. 

When  we  compare  the  Greeks  of  Homer  with  those  of 
later  ages,  we  immediately  perceive  a  remarkable  difference, 
to  which  we  must  at  once  direct  our  attention.  His  Greeks, 
to  whatever  tribe  they  belong,  are  all  equal  in  point  of  cul- 
ture. With  him,  the  Thessalian  differs  in  nothing  from  the 
inhabitant  of  the  Peloponnesus,  nor  the  Etolian  from  the 
Boeotian  and  Athenian  ;  the  sole  points  of  difference  which 
he  marks,  are  merely  personal ;  or,  at  most,  result  from  the 
greater  or  smaller  extent  of  the  several  territories.  Hence 
we  infer,  that  the  causes  which  afterwards  gave  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  eastern  part  of  Hellas  so  great  an  advantage  over 
those  of  the  west,  had  not  then  begun  to  operate.  There 
must  rather  have  been  some  causes  of  general  influence, 
to  produce  that  early  progress ;  and  therefore  we  have 
less  reason  to  fear  that  we  were  mistaken  in  assigning  the 
first  place  among  them  to  religion. 

Yet  religion  had  no  influence  in  exciting  and  developing 


THE  HEROIC  AGE-THE   TROJAN  WAR. 


51 


that  heroic  spirit,  which  is  the  characteristic  of  the  age     In 
those  later  centuries  of  the  middle  age  which  embrace  the 
Christian  heroic  age,  a  devotional  spirit  formed  a  prominent 
feature  in  the  character  of  a  knight ;  but  nothing  like  this 
IS  to  be  found  among  the  Greeks.     The  Grecian  heroes  al- 
ways preserve  a  belief  in  the  gods ;  are  intimately  and  di- 
rectly united  with  them ;    are  sometimes  persecuted  and 
sometimes  protected  by  them;    but  they  do  not  fight  for 
their  religion,  like  the  Christian  knights.     Such  an  idea 
could  never  occur  to  them ;  for  their  representations  of  their 
gods  did  not  admit  of  it.     And  here  we  remark  one  great 
point  of  diflference  between  the  Grecian  and  Christian  heroic 
character.     A  second,  to  which  we  shall  return  directly  re- 
sults from  the  different  condition  of  the  other  sex.    But  ano- 
ther prominent  trait  is  common  to  both ;    the  propensity  to 
extraordinary  and  bold  undertakings,  not  only  at  home,  but 
in  foreign  lands,  in  countries  beyond  the  sea,  and  of  which 
tradition  had,  for  the  most  part,  spread  none  but  indistinct 
accounts.     Ihis  propensity  was  first  awakened  by  the  earlv 
immigrations  of  the  Hellenes.    But  the  exploits  of  the  oldest 
heroes  among  the  Greeks,  Meleager,  Tydeus,  and  others, 
before  Hercules  and  Jason,  were  performed  at  home  •  and 
even  those  which  are  said  to  have  been  performed  by  Her- 
cules out  of  Greece,  are  probably  a  later  fiction,  invented  at 
the  time  when  his  name  was  first  added  to  the  number  of  the 
Argonauts,  and  the  Grecian  Hercules  was  confounded  with 
the  Phoenician      Adventures  in  foreign  regions  begin  with 
Jason  and  the  Argonautic  expedition  ;  and  those  adventures 
were  destined  soon  to  end  in  a  general  union  of  the  nation 
lor  the  purpose  of  carrying  on  a  war  beyond  the  sea. 

As  ar  as  we  can  judge  amidst  the  uncertainty  of  the 
chronology  of  that  period  this  adventurous  spirit  appears  to 
have  been  awakened  m  the  century  immediately  preceding 

Pnn.K  T"  '^*'-  ^'^^^'•ding  to  all  possible  chronological 
combinations,  we  must  refer  to  this  period  the  exledi- 
iion  of   the  Argonauts   and  the  undertaking  of  Theseus 

S?  /T '  '^,^'*;^  ^^^"^'^  happened  soon  after  the  do- 
minion of  the  sea  had  been  gained  for  that  island  by  Minos. 
Ihe  general  condition  of  Greece  in  that  period  explains,  in 
some  measure,  why  the  limits  of  that  country  began  to  grow 
too  narrow,  and  a  new  theatre  for  the  display  of  enterprise 

E  2 


« 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  it. 


THE  HEROIC  AGE— THE  TROJAN    WAR. 


53 


1.  „kt  <Xn     TV.P  whole  of  Greece  previous  to  the 

to  be  sought  for.     Ihe  ™^  ^       ,        f^^t  tranquillity 
Trojan  war,  Wa^s  Jo  j^ave  enj^d  P  ^^^  ^^       q^^^.^y 

Tnt^hicrSee:  t^^^^^^^^  seem  already.to  have  been 
definTtrvely  established.  We  hear  of  no  contention  respecting 
fhem  on  the  part  of  the  princes;  and  Homer  was  able  to 
enumerate  the^everal  possessions  with  precision  The  war 
of  the  seven  against  Thebes  had  its  origin  in  family  discord 
ani  the  cSof  the  exiled  Heraclid^  were  not  made  valid 
Si  a  more  recent  age.  It  was  on  the  whole  an  age  of  in- 
ternal peace,  notwithstanding  some  interruptions.  In  such 
an  age  there  was  little  opportunity  for  heroic  exploits  at 
home  •  and  what  was  more  natural  than  that  the  warlike 
spirit,  which  was  once  roused,  should  go  in  quest  of  them 

"  But  such  was  the  situation  of  the  country,  that  this  could 
•  take  place  only  by  sea.  There  was  in  the  North  nothing 
which  could  invite  the  spirit  of  enterprise  ;  and  the  country 
in  that  direction  was  possessed  by  warlike  nations.  Un  tlie 
other  hand,  the  reports  which  came  to  the  Greeks  respecting 
the  land  beyond  the  sea,  were  numerous ;  even  though  they 
may  have  been  brought  by  none  but  the  Phoenicians.  Ihe 
countries  and  nations  which  were  the  chief  objects  ot  the 
voyages  of  that  commercial  people,  the  Cimmerians  in  the 
North,  the  Lotophagi,  and  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperides 
on  the  coast  of  Libya ;  Sicily  with  its  wonders,  the  Cyclops, 
and  Scylla  and  Charybdis  ;  and  even  Spain,  with  the  mighty 
Geryon  and  the  pillars  of  Hercules,  are  dimly  seen  in  the 
earliest  Grecian  mythology.  These  traditions  did  much 
towards  awakening  the  spirit  of  adventure,  and  thus  occa- 
sioned the  Argonautic  expedition. 

These  early  voyages,  by  which  so  much  activity  was  awa- 
kened, and  so  much  energy  called  into  action,  were  the  chief 
means  by  which  the  circle  of  ideas  in  the  nation  was  en- 
larged. This  is  obvious  from  those  ancient  mythological  tales, 
which  were  thus  introduced,  and  which  were  the  fruit  of  the 
increased  intercourse  with  foreign  countries.  The  geography 
of  Homer,  limited  as  it  is,  not  only  extends  far  beyond  the 
bounds  of  his  native  land ;  but  shows  a  manifest  desire  ot 
discovering  the  farthest  limits  of  the  earth.  The  ocean 
stream  which  flowed  round  it,  is  mentioned;  the  regions 


are  named,  in  which  the  sun  has  the  gates  of  its  rising  and 
setting ;  even  the  entrance  to  the  lower  world  is  known. 
The  obscurity  in  which  all  this  was  veiled,  served  but  to 
excite  the  adventurous  spirit,  when  once  aroused,  to  new 
undertakings. 

The  internal  political  condition  of  Greece  in  the  heroic 
age  was  in  one  respect  similar  to  that  of  a  later  period  ;  and 
in  another  essentially  different.  It  was  similar  in  the  divi- 
sion into  small  territories  ;  but  it  was  altogether  different  in 
the  constitutions  of  the  states. 

The  division  into  territories,  a  result  of  the  variety  of  the 
tnbes,  was  in  those  times  as  great,  or  perhaps  greater  than 
m  more  recent  ones.     The  district  of  Thessaly  alone  con- 
tained, in  Homer's  time,  no  less  than  ten  small  states,  each 
of  which  had  its  prince  or  leader.     In  the  central  part  of 
Greece,  the  Boeotians  had  five  principalities ;'    the  Minyes 
whose  capital  was  Orchomenus,  the  Locrians,^  the  Athenians,' 
the  Phocians,  had  each  their  own  ruler.     In  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, there  existed,  independent  of  each  other,  the  king- 
doms of  Argos  of  Mycenae,  of  Sparta,  of  Pylus,  that  of  the 
hlians,  divided  under  four  heads,  and  Arcadia.     Many  of 
the  islands  also  had  their  own  princes.     On  the  west  side 
the  government  of  Ulysses  embraced,  beside  Ithaca,  the  is- 
lands Zacynthus  and  Cephallene,  and  Epirus  which  lies 
over  against  it.    The  flourishing  island  of  Crete  was  swayed 
byldomeneus;  Salamis,  by  Ajax ;  Euboea,  inhabited  by  the 
Abantes,  Rhodes,  and  Cos  had  their  own  rulers  •    JEo-im 
and  probably  others  of  the  small  islands,  belonged  to  the 
neighbouring  princes. 

This  political  division  was  therefore  from  the  earliest  times 
a  peculiarity  of  Greece  ;  and  it  never  ceased  to  be  so.  And 
lere  It  is  natural  to  ask,  how  it  could  have  continued  so 
long  r  How  happened  it,  that  amidst  the  early  civil  wars 
and  especially  the  later  superiority  of  the  Doric  tribe  the 
supremacy  of  an  individual  state  was  never  established  ^  One 
pnncipal  cause  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  natural  geogra- 
phical divisions  of  the  country,  which  we  have  described  in 
a  tormer  chapter ;  another,  no  less  important,  seems  to  lie 

serve^a^^^^^^^^^^^^  P--^«  -^  be  found,  which 

The  Opuntu  and  Epicnemidii.     Homer  makes  no  mention  of  the  Ozol®. 


54 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  IV. 


THE  HEROIC  AGE— THE  TROJAN  WAR. 


55 


in  the  internal  division  of  the  several  tribes.  Even  where 
those  of  the  same  tribe  made  their  settlements,  they  were 
immediately  split  into  separate  townships.  Accordmg  to 
these,  the  troops  of  soldiers  are  distinguished  m  Homer. 
Proofs  of  it  are  found  in  all  parts  of  his  poems,  especially  in 
the  catalogue  of  the  ships.  If  these  townships  stood  under 
one  common  head,  they  were  still  united  only  by  a  feeble 
bond.  The  germ  of  division  was  deeply  fixed,  even  m  those 
earlier  times ;  and  as  it  unfolded,  it  was  destined  to  mature 
the  whole  subsequent  political  condition  of  Greece. 

Yet  though  the  divisions  of  the  country  were  then  as  nu- 
merous, the  forms  of  government  in  those  early  times  were 
entirely  different  from  the  later  ones.  We  meet  with  no 
governments  but  those  of  princes  or  kings ;  there  were  then 
no  republics ;  and  yet  republicanism  was  eventually  to  de- 
cide the  political  character  of  Greece.  These  monarchical 
constitutions,  if  that  name  may  be  applied  to  them,  were 
rather  the  outlines  of  constitutions  than  regular,  finished 
forms  of  government.  They  were  a  consequence  of  the 
most  ancient  condition  of  the  nation,  when  either  ruling 
families  sprung  up  in  the  several  tribes,  or  the  leaders  of 
foreign  colonies  had  known  how  to  secure  to  themselves  and 
their  posterity  the  government  over  the  natives.  The  families 
of  Peleus,  Cadmus,  Pelops,  and  others,  have  already  been 
mentioned.  It  was  a  great  recommendation  of  the  later  rulers, 
to  be  able  to  trace  their  lineage  to  one  of  the  ancient  heroes 
or  gods ;  and  Alexander  himself  sought  the  confirmation  of 
his  own  descent  from  the  temple  of  Ammon.  But  though 
much  depended  on  descent,  we  learn  from  observing  those 
ancient  families,  that  it  was  not  only  necessary  that  the  found- 
er of  the  family  should  be  a  hero,  but,  if  its  elevation  was  to 
be  preserved,  that  many  heroes  like  him  should  arise  among 
his  posterity.  For  this  the  houses  of  Pelops  and  Cadmus 
were  the  most  illustrious.  But  only  certain  branches  of  the 
family  of  Hercules,  the  first  of  Grecian  heroes,  were  remem- 
bered by  the  nation,  while  others  passed  into  oblivion.  The 
Greeks  paid  respect  to  birth,  yet  they  never  attributed  every 
thing  to  it ;  and  if  in  those  republican  times,  the  noble  fa- 
milies were  preserved  distinct  from  the  rest,  their  superiority 
depended  seldom  on  birth  alone;  and  no  line  was  drawn 
between  them  and  the  rest  of  the  people,  such  as  divided  the 


II 


Patricians  from  the  Plebeians  in  the  early  period  of  Roman 
history.  The  correct  feeling  of  the  Greeks  is  observable  in 
this,  as  in  so  many  other  things.  The  respect  for  their  illus- 
trious families  was  continued  in  the  recollection  of  their 
actions;  but  the  descendants  were  not  long  permitted  to 
live  on  the  fame  of  their  forefathers. 

The  constitutions  of  the  heroic  age  were  the  result  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  wants  which  were  felt.     Esteem  for  the 
ruling  families  secured  to  them  the  government ;  but  their 
power  was  not  strictly  hereditary.     Princes  were  not  much 
more  than  the  first  amongst  their  peers;  even  the  latter 
were  sometimes  denominated  princes.^     The  son  had  com- 
monly the  precedence  over  others  in  the  succession  ;  but 
his  claim  was  measured  by  his  personal  qualifications  for  the 
station.*^     It  was  his  first  duty  to  lead  in  war ;  and  he  could 
not  do  this,  unless  he  was  himself  distinguished  for  courage 
and  strength.    His  privileges  in  peace  were  not  great.     He 
called  together  the  popular  assembly,  which  was  chiefly,  if 
not  exclusively,  composed  of  the  older  and  more  distinguished 
citizens.^     Here  the  king  had  his  own  seat ;  the  ensign  of 
his  dignity  was  a  sceptre  or  staff.     He  had  the  right  of  ad- 
dressing the  assembly,  which  was  done  standing.     In  all 
important  events  he  was  bound  to  consult  the  people.     In 
addition  to  this  he  sometimes  acted  as  judge  ;*    but  not  al- 
ways ;  for  the  administration  of  justice  was  often  committed 
to  an  assembly  of  the  elders.^     Nothing  was  known  of  par- 
ticular taxes  paid  to  the  king.     His  superiority  consisted  in 
a  piece  of  land,  and  a  larger  part  of  the  booty.     Excepting 
this,  he  derived  his  support  from  his  own  possessions  and 
the   produce   of  his   fields   and  herds.     The  preservation 
of  his  dignity  required  an  almost  unbounded  hospitality. 
His  house  was  the  place  of  assembly  for  persons  of  the 
upper  class,  who  almost  always   sat   at  table  with  him; 
to  turn  away  strangers,  who  asked   for   shelter,  or  only 

'  As,  in  Od.  viii.  41,  the  (tici/Trrovxot  ^(TiKrjfg  of  Ithaca. 
*  Observe  the  description  of  the  situation  of  Telemachus  in  this  respect. 
Odyss.  i.  392,  etc.  ^ 

'  Compare  the  description  of  the  assembly  of  Phaeacians.     Odyss.  viii. 
Aristot.  ^  Polit.  iii.  14.     Srpanjydf  yap  rjv  km  ducaffrrfg  6  (SaciXtvg,  leai  riav 
Tpbg  ^lovQ  Kvpiog, 

'  See  e.  g.  the  representation  on  the  shield  of  Achilles.     II.  xviii.  504. 


56 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  IV. 


THE  HEROIC  AGE— THE  TROJAN  WAR. 


57 


seemed  to  stand  in  need  of  it,  would  have  been  an  un- 

exam  pled  outrage.^  .i  •  n  i  j      a 

Greece,  even  in  those  times,  was  a  thickly  peopled  and 
well  cultivated  country.  What  a  crowd  of  cities  is  enu- 
merated  by  the  poet !  And  we  must  not  imagine  these  to 
have  been  open  towns  with  scattered  habitations.  The 
epithets  applied  to  them  frequently  prove  the  reverse.  They 
are  in  part  surrounded  with  walls ;  have  gates  and  regular 
streets.^  Yet  the  houses  stand  by  themselves;  having  m 
front  a  court,  and  in  the  rear  a  garden.^  Such  at  least  were 
the  houses  of  the  most  respectable.  Others  appear  to  stand 
directly  on  the  street  without  any  court  in  front.  In  the 
middle  of  the  city  there  is  a  public  square  or  market-place; 
the  common  place  of  assembly  for  the  citizens,  whether  on 
solemn  occasions,  or  for  deliberation,  or  courts  of  justice,  or 
any  other  purpose.  It  is  surrounded  with  seats  of  stone,  on 
which  the  distinguished  men  are  wont  on  such  occasions  to 
take  their  places.*  No  trace  is  to  be  found  of  any  pavement 
in  the  streets. 

The  different  branches  of  agriculture  were  already  well 
advanced.  Property  in  lands  was  universal ;  of  which  the 
boundaries  were  fixed  by  measurement,  and  often  designated 
by  stones.^  The  poet  describes  to  us  the  various  labours  of 
farming,  ploughing,  whether  with  oxen  or  mules,  sowing, 
reaping,  binding  the  sheaves,  and  treading  out  the  corn  by 
oxen  on  the  threshing  floor.  Nor  does  he  omit  to  mention 
the  culture  of  the  grape,  the  tilling  of  gardens,  and  the  va- 
rious duties  of  the  herdsman.^  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
the  soil  was  much  better  cultivated  in  the  most  flourishing 
period  of  Grecian  history. 

The  houses  of  the  heroes  were  large  and  spacious,  and  at 
the  same  time  suited  to  the  climate.  The  court  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  gallery,  about  which  the  bedchambers  were 

'  How  warmly  Menelaus  reproaches  Eteoneus  for  proposing  to  send  the 
strangers  some  where  else.     Od.  iv.  31 . 

*  E.  g.  Athens  with  broad  streets  (dpvdyvia).  Od.  vii.  8.     Gortys  with  firm 
walls  {THxi6t<j<Ta) ;  and  others. 

'  Thus  the  palace  of  Menelaus,  Od.  ii. ;  and  of  Alcinous,  Od.  vii.    Others 
on  the  street.     II.  xviii.  496. 

*  The  city  of  the  Phsacians,  Od.vii.,  gives  proof  of  all  this. 
*I1.  xii.421,xxi.405.  ^ 

*  I  need  only  call  to  mind  the  representations  on  the  shield  of  Achilles. 
II.  xviii.  540,  etc. 


built.  There  was  a  direct  entrance  from  the  court  to  the 
hall,  which  was  the  common  place  of  resort.^  Movable 
seats  (opopoi)  stood  along  the  sides  of  the  walls.  Every  thing 
glistened  with  brass.  On  one  side  was  a  place  of  deposit, 
where  the  arms  were  kept.  In  the  back-ground  was  the 
hearth,  and  the  seat  for  the  lady  of  the  mansion,  when  she 
made  her  appearance  below.  Several  steps  conducted  from 
thence  to  a  higher  gallery,  near  which  were  the  chambers 
of  the  women,  where  they  were  employed  in  household  la- 
bours, especially  in  weaving.  Several  outhouses  for  the 
purpose  of  grinding  and  baking  were  connected  with  the 
house ;  others  for  the  common  habitations  of  the  male  and 
female  slaves;  and  also  stables  for  the  horses.^  The  stalls 
for  cattle  were  commonly  in  the  fields. 

Astonishment  is  excited  by  the  abundance  of  metals,  both 
of  the  precious  and  baser  ones,  with  which  the  mansions 
were  adorned,  and  of  which  the  household  utensils  were 
made.^  The  walls  glittered  with  them ;  the  seats  were  made 
of  them.  Water  for  washing  was  presented  in  golden  ewers 
on  silver  salvers;  the  benches,  arms,  utensils  were  orna- 
mented with  them.  Even  if  we  suppose  that  much,  called 
golden,  was  only  gilded,  we  still  have  reason  to  ask,  whence 
this  wealth  in  precious  metals  ?  Homer  gives  us  a  hint  re- 
specting the  silver,  when  he  speaks  of  it  as  belonging  to 
Alybe,  in  the  land  of  the  Halizones.*  Most  of  the  gold  pro- 
bably came  from  Lydia,  where  this  metal  in  later  times  was 
so  abundant,  that  the  Greeks  were  for  the  most  part  supplied 
with  all  they  used  from  that  country.  As  there  was  no 
coined  money ,^  and  as  the  metals  were  in  consequence  used 
in  commerce  as  means  of  exchange,  the  manufacturing  of 
them  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  chief  branches  of  me- 
chanic industry.  Proofs  of  this  are  found  in  the  preparation 
of  arms  and  utensils.  We  need  but  call  to  mind  the  shield 
of  Achilles,  the  torch-bearing  statues  in  the  house  of  Alcinous,^ 

*  The  above-mentioned  mansions  of  Menelaus  and  Alcinous  best  illustrate 
this  style  of  architecture ;  although  the  description  of  the  mansion  of  Ulysses 
is  in  some  parts  more  minute. 

'  Thus  with  Menelaus,  Od.  iv.  40. 

'  Above  all  in  the  mansion  of  Menelaus. 

*  II.  ii.  Catalog,  v.  364.  Without  doubt  in  the  Caucasian  chain  of  moun- 
tains ;  even  if  the  Halizones  and  the  Chalybes  were  not  the  same. 

*  This  was  probably  one  of  the  chief  reasons  why  so  much  of  it  was  ma- 
nufactured. •  Od.  vii.  100. 


II 


58 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  IV. 


the  enamelled  figures  on  the  clasp  of  Ulysses'  mantle/  etc. 
But  it  is  difficult  to  say,  how  far  these  manufactures  were 
made  by  the  Greeks,  or  gained  by  exchange  from  abroad. 
As  the  poet  commonly  describes  them  to  be  the  works  of 
Vulcan,  it  is  at  least  clear,  that  manufactures  of  this  kind 
were  somewhat  rare,  and  in  part  foreign.^  Gold  was  after- 
wards wrought  in  Asia  Minor,  especially  in  Lydia ;  all  la- 
bour in  brass  and  iron  seems,  as  we  remarked  above,  to 
have  been  first  brought  to  perfection  among  the  Hellenes  in 

Crete. 

These  labours  in  metal  appear  to  have  limited  the  early 
progress  of  the  plastic  arts.  We  find  no  traces  of  painting, 
and  none  of  marble  statues.  But  those  eflforts  in  metal  im- 
ply practice  in  drawing ;  for  we  hear  not  only  of  figures, 
but  also  of  expression  in  their  positions  and  motions.^ 

The  art  of  weaving,  the  chief  occupation  of  the  women, 
was  even  then  carried  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection.  The 
stuffs  were  of  wool  and  linen ;  it  is  hard  to  decide  how  far 
cotton  was  in  those  times  manufactured  in  Greece.*  Yet 
garments  of  foreign  manufacture,  those  of  Egypt  and  Sidon, 
were  esteemed  the  most  beautiful.^  The  dress  was  decent 
but  free.  The  female  sex  were  by  no  means  accustomed  to 
conceal  the  countenance,  but  were  clad  in  long  robes ;  both 
sexes  wore  a  tight  under  garment,  over  which  the  broad 
upper  garment  was  thrown.^ 

The  internal  regulations  of  families  were  simple,  but  not 
without  those  peculiarities,  which  are  a  natural  consequence 
of  the  introduction  of  slavery.  Polygamy  was  not  directly 
authorized  ;  but  the  sanctity  of  marriage  was  not  considered 
as  violated  by  the  intercourse  of  the  husband  with  female 
slaves.  The  noble  characters  of  Andromache  and  of  Pene- 
lope exhibit,  each  in  its  own  way,  models  of  elevated  con- 

*  Od.  xix.  225,  etc. 

*  As  e.  g.  the  silver  goblet  received  by  Menelaus  from  the  king  of  Sidon. 
Od.  IV.  615. 

'  Besides  the  description  of  the  shield  of  Achilles,  note  especially  Od.  xix. 
228,  etc.  ^         ^ 

*  Compare,  above  all,  the  description  of  Achilles'  clothing.  Od.  xix.  225, 
etc.  The  mantle,  (xXaiva,)  rough  to  the  touch,  was  without  doubt  of  wool; 
but  the  under  garment  (xtrwv)  can  hardly  pass  for  either  woollen  or  Hnen. 

Fine  as  a  filmy  web  beneath  it  shone 
„       A  vest,  that  dazzled  like  a  cloudless  sun. 

*  As  e.  g.  II.  vi.  290. 

*  The  passages  are  collected  in  Feithii  Ant.  Homer,  iii.  cap.  7. 


THE  HEROIC  AGE— THE  TROJAN  WAll. 


69 


jugal  affection.    It  is  more  difficult  for  us,  with  our  feelings, 
to  understand  the  seduced  and  returning  Helen ;  and  yet  if 
we  compare  Helen,  the  beloved  of  Paris  in  the  Iliad,^  with 
Helen,  the  spouse  of  Menelaus  in  the  Odyssey,^  we  find  truth 
and  much  internal  harmony  in  the  character  which  could 
err,  but  not  become  wholly  untrue  to  nobleness  of  feeling. 
It  is  a  woman,  who,  having  become  in  youth  the  victim  of 
sensuality,  (and  never  without  emotions  of  regret,)  returned 
afterwards  to  reason  ;  before  she  was  compelled  to  do  so  by 
age.    Even  after  her  return  from  Troy,  she  was  still  exceed- 
ingly beautiful  f  (and  who  can  think  of  counting  her  years?) 
And  yet  even  then  the  two  sexes  stood  to  each  other  in  the 
same  relation,  which  continued  in  later  times.     The  wife  is 
housewife,  and  nothing  more.     Even  the  sublime  Andro- 
mache, after  that  parting,  which  will  draw  tears  as  long  as 
there  are  eyes  which  can  weep  and  hearts  which  can  feel,  is 
sent  back  to  the  apartments  of  the  women,  to  superintend 
the  labours  of  the  maid-servants.*     Still  we  observe  in  her 
conjugal  love  of  an  elevated  character.     In  other  instances 
love  has  reference,  both  with  mortals  and  with  immortals,  to 
sensual  enjoyment ;  although  in  the  noble  and  uncorrupted 
virgin  characters,  as  in  the  amiable  Nausicaa,  it  was  united 
with  that  bashfulness,  which  accompanies  maiden  youth. 
But  we  meet  with  no  trace  of  those  elevated  feelings,  that 
romantic  love,  as  it  is  very  improperly  termed,  which  results 
from  a  higher  regard  for  the  female  sex.      That  love  and 
that  regard  are  traits  peculiar  to  the  Germanic  nations,  a 
result  of  the  spirit  of  gallantry  which  was  a  leading  feature 
in  the  character  of  chivalry,  but  which  we  vainly  look  for  in 
Greece.     Yet  here  the  Greek  stands  between  the  East  and 
the  West.     Although  he  was  never  wont  to  revere  woman 
as  a  being  of  a  higher  order,  he  did  not,  like  the  Asiatic, 
imprison  her  by  troops  in  a  haram. 

The  progress  which  had  been  made  in  social  life,  is  visible 
in  nothing,  except  the  relative  situation  of  the  sexes,  more 
distinctly,  than  in  the  tone  of  conversation  among  men.  A 
solemn  dignity  belonged  to  it  even  in  common  intercourse ; 
the  style  of  salutation  and  address  is  connected  with  certain 
forms ;   the  epithets  with  which  the  heroes  honoured  each 


*  In  the  third  book. 

•  Odyss.  iv.  121. 


*  Odyss.  iv.  and  xv. 

*  II.  vi.  490. 


60 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  nr. 


Other,  were  so  adopted  into  the  language  of  intercourse,  that 
they  are  not  unfrequently  applied,  even  where  the  language  of 
reproach  is  used.  Let  it  not  be  said,  that  this  is  merely  the 
language  of  epic  poetry.  The  poet  never  could  have  em- 
ployed it,  if  its  original,  and  a  taste  for  it,  had  not  already 
existed.  If  the  tone  of  intercourse  is  a  measure  of  the  social 
and,  in  a  certain  degree,  of  the  moral  improvement  of  a 
nation,  the  Greeks  of  the  heroic  age  were  already  vastly  ele- 
vated beyond  their  earlier  savage  state. 

To  complete  the  picture  of  those  times,  it  is  necessary  to 
speak  of  war  and  the  art  of  war.  The  heroic  age  of  the 
Greeks,  considered  from  this  point  of  view,  exhibits  a  mix- 
ture of  savageness  and  magnanimity,  and  the  first  outlines 
of  the  laws  of  nations.  The  enemy  who  has  been  slain,  is 
not  secure  against  outrage,  and  yet  the  corpse  is  not  always 
abused.*  The  conquered  party  offers  a  ransom  ;  and  it  de- 
pends on  the  victor  to  accept  or  refuse  it.  The  arms,  both 
of  attack  and  defence,  are  of  iron  or  brass.  No  hero  ap- 
peared, like  Hercules  of  old,  with  a  club  and  lion's  skin  for 
spear  and  shield.  The  art  of  war,  as  far  as  it  relates  to  the 
position  and  erecting  of  fortified  camps,  seems  to  have  been 
first  invented  in  the  siege  of  Troy.^  In  other  respects, 
every  thing  depended  on  the  more  or  less  perfect  equip- 
ments, together  with  personal  courage  and  strength.  As  the 
great  multitude  was,  for  the  most  part,  without  defensive 
armour,  and  as  only  a  few  were  completely  accoutred,  one 
of  these  last  outweighed  a  host  of  the  rest.  But  only  the 
leaders  were  thus  armed  ;  and  they,  standing  on  their  cha- 
riots of  war,  (for  cavalry  was  still  unknown,)  fought  with  each 
other  in  the  space  between  the  armies.  If  they  were  victo- 
rious, they  spread  panic  before  them ;  and  it  became  easy 
for  them  to  break  through  the  ranks.  But  we  will  pursue 
no  farther  the  description  of  scenes,  which  every  one  pre- 
fers to  read  in  the  poet  himself. 

As  the  crusades  were  the  fruit  of  the  revolution  in  the 
social  condition  of  the  West,  the  Trojan  war  resulted  from 
the  same  causes  in  Greece.  It  was  necessary  that  a  fond- 
ness for  adventures  in  foreign  lands  should  be  awakened ; 

'  An  example,  II.  vi.  417. 

*  See  on  this  subject,  on  which  we  believe  we  may  be  brief,  the  Excursus 
of  Heyne  to  the  vi.  vii.  and  viii.  books  of  the  Ihad. 


THE  HEROIC  AGE—THE  TROJAN  WAR. 


61 


expeditions  by  sea,  like  that  of  the  Argonauts,  be  attended 
with  success ;  and  a  union  of  the  heroes,  as  in  that  and  the 
march  against  Thebes,  be  first  established ;  before  such  an 
undertaking  could  become  practicable.  But  now  it  resulted 
so  naturally  from  the  whole  condition  of  things,  that,  though 
its  object  might  have  been  a  different  one,  it  must  have 
taken  place  even  without  a  Helen. 

The  expedition  against  Troy,  like  the  crusades,  was  a 
voluntary  undertaking  on  the  part  of  those  who  joined  in  it ; 
and  this  circumstance  had  an  influence  on  all  the  internal 
regulations.  The  leaders  of  the  several  bands  were  volun- 
tary followers  of  the  Atridse,  and  could  therefore  depart  from 
the  army  at  their  own  pleasure.  Agamemnon  was  but  the 
first  among  the  first.  It  is  more  difficult  to  ascertain  the 
relation  between  the  leaders  and  their  people  ;  and  he  who 
should  undertake  to  describe  every  thing  minutely,  would 
be  most  sure  of  making  mistakes.  There  were  certainly 
control  and  obedience.  The  troops  follow  their  leaders,  and 
leave  the  battle  with  them.  But  much  even  of  this  seems 
to  have  been  voluntary ;  and  the  spirit  of  the  age  allowed 
no  such  severe  discipline  as  exists  in  modern  armies.  None 
but  a  Thersites  could  have  received  the  treatment  of  Ther- 
sites. 

This  undertaking,  begun  and  successfully  terminated  by 
united  exertions,  kindled  the  national  spirit  of  the  Hellenes. 
On  the  fields  of  Asia,  the  tribes  had  for  the  first  time  been 
assembled,  for  the  first  time  had  saluted  each  other  as 
brethren.  They  had  fought  and  had  conquered  in  company. 
Yet  something  of  a  higher  character  was  still  wanting  to 
preserve  the  flame,  which  was  just  blazing  up.  The  assist- 
ance of  the  muse  was  needed,  to  commemorate  in  words 
those  events  of  which  the  echo  will  never  die  away.  By 
preserving  the  memory  of  them  for  ever,  the  most  beautiful 
fruits  which  they  bore  were  saved  from  perishing. 


•^^ 


€» 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  v. 


THE  PERIOD  FOLLOWING  THE  HEROIC  AGE. 


63 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  PERIOD  FOLLOWING  THE  HEROIC  AGE.  MIGRATIONS. 
ORIGIN  OF  REPUBLICAN  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT. 
AND  THEIR  CHARACTER. 

Like  the  age  of  chivalry  in  western  Europe,  the  heroic  age 
of  the  Greeks  began  and  ended  without  our  being  able  to 
define  either  period  by  an  exact  date.  Such  a  phenomenon 
is  the  fruit  of  causes  which  are  rooted  deeply  and  of  con- 
tinuing influence,  and  it  neither  suddenly  ripens  nor  sud- 
denly decays.  The  heroic  age  was  not  immediately  termi- 
nated by  the  Trojan  war ;  yet  it  was  during  that  period  in 
its  greatest  glory.^  It  was  closely  united  with  the  political 
constitution  of  the  times ;  the  princes  of  the  tribes  were  the 
first  of  the  heroes.  When  the  constitution  of  the  tribes  was 
changed,  the  ancient  heroic  world  could  not  continue.  No 
new  undertaking  was  begun,  which  was  so  splendidly  exe- 
cuted and  closed.  Although,  therefore,  heroic  characters 
may  still  have  arisen,  as  in  the  times  of  Achilles  and  Aga- 
memnon, no  similar  career  of  honour  was  opened  to  them ; 
they  were  not  celebrated  in  song  like  the  Atridse  and  their 
companions ;  and  though  they  may  have  gained  the  praise 
of  their  contemporaries,  they  did  not  live,  like  the  latter,  in 
the  memory  of  succeeding  generations. 

In  the  age  succeeding  the  Trojan  war,  several  events  took 
place,  which  prepared  and  introduced  an  entire  revolution 
m  the  domestic  and  still  more  in  the  public  life  of  the 
Greeks.  The  result  of  these  revolutions  was  the  origin  and 
general  prevalence  of  republican  forms  of  government  among 
them  ;  and  this  decided  the  whole  future  character  of  their 
public  life  as  a  nation. 

It  is  still  possible  for  us  to  show  the  general  causes  of  this 
great  change ;  but  when  we  remember  that  these  events 
took  place  before  Greece  had  produced  an  historian,  and  when 
tradition  was  the  only  authority,  we  give  up  all  expectation 
of  gammg  perfect  and  unbroken  historical  accounts ;  and 

h^L^ln^^lpJ^^'T^''^'^^  ^^''  ^^'  ^^"  ^^  ^^^°^«'  ^o  the  times  immediately 
betore  and  after  the  Trojan  war.    Op.  et  Dies,  156,  etc. 


acknowledge  that  we  can  hardly  know  more  of  them  than 
Thucydides. 

"  The  emigration  of  the  tribes,"  says  this  historian,*  "  was 
by  no  means  at  an  end  with  the  Trojan  war.  The  continu- 
ance of  the  war  produced  many  changes ;  in  many  cities 
disturbances  were  excited,  which  occasioned  the  banished 
parties  to  found  new  cities.  The  Boeotians,  driven  from 
Arne  in  Thessaly,  took  possession  of  their  country  in  the 
sixtieth  year  after  the  fall  of  Troy ;  in  the  eightieth,  the 
Dorians,  led  on  by  the  Heraclidae,  conquered  the  Pelopon- 
nesus." And  we  have  already  observed,  what  great  revolu- 
tions were  produced  by  this  last  event.  A  new  tribe,  till 
then  the  weaker,  was  extended  and  became  the  more  power- 
ful. But  still  greater  changes  were  to  come ;  the  race  of 
the  Hellenes  were  destined  to  extend  on  the  east  and  west, 
far  beyond  the  limits  of  their  ancient  country.  "  When 
Greece,"  continues  Thucydides,  "after  a  long  interval,  at 
length  became  composed,  and  assumed  a  firmer  appearance, 
it  sent  out  colonies ;  Athens,  to  Ionia  in  Asia  Minor,  and  to 
a  great  part  of  the  islands  of  the  Archipelago ;  the  Pelopon- 
nesians,  chiefly  to  Italy  and  Sicily ;  all  which  settlements 
were  not  made  till  after  the  Trojan  times." 

The  views  of  the  nation  could  not  but  be  enlarged  by  the 
Trojan  war.  It  had  become  acquainted  with  the^coasts  of 
Asia,  those  lands  so  highly  favoured  by  nature ;  and  the  re- 
collection of  them  never  died  away.  When  the  new  internal 
storms  followed,  and  almost  all  the  tribes  of  the  Hellenes 
were  driven  from  their  places  of  abode,  it  is  not  remarkable 
that  the  coasts  of  Asia  should  have  attracted  the  emigrating 
parties.  Since  the  downfal  of  Troy,  no  new  dominion  had 
been  established  there ;  no  nation  of  the  country  was  strong* 
enough  to  prohibit  the  settlement  of  the  foreigners.  Thus,  in 
the  course  of  not  more  than  a  century,^  the  western  coast  of 
Asia  Minor  was  occupied  by  a  chain  of  Grecian  cities,  ex- 
tending from  the  Hellespont  to  the  boundary  of  Cilicia. 
Cohans,  conducted  by  the  descendants  of  the  fallen  house 
of  the  Atridse,  established  their  residence  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  ruins  of  Troy,  on  the  coast  of  Mysia,  in  the  most  fruit- 
ful region  known  to  those  times,^  and  on  the  opposite  island 


*  Thucyd.  i.  12. 

•  Herod,  i.  149. 


In  a  period  subsequent  to  the  year  1130  before  Christ, 


64 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  v. 


of  Lesbos ;  on  the  continent  they  built  twelve  cities,  and  on 
Lesbos  Mitylene,  which  now  gives  a  name  to  the  whole  is- 
land. Smyrna,  the  only  one  which  has  preserved  a  part  of 
its  splendour,  and  Cyme,  exceeded  all  the  rest  on  the  main 
land.  iEolis  was  bounded  on  the  south  by  Ionia,  a  region 
so  called  from  the  twelve  Ionian  cities,  which  were  built  by 
the  lonians,  who  bad  been  expelled  from  their  ancient  coun- 
try. They  also  occupied  the  neighbouring  islands  Chios 
and  Samos.  If  iEolis  could  boast  of  superior  fertility,  the 
Ionian  sky  was  celebrated  with  the  Greeks  as  the  mildest 
and  most  delightful.^  Of  these  cities,  Miletus,  Ephesus, 
and  Phocaea  became  flourishing  commercial  towns;  the 
mothers  of  many  daughters,  extending  from  the  shores  of 
the  Black  Sea  and  Lake  Mseotis,  to  the  coasts  of  Gaul  and 
Iberia.  Neither  were  the  Dorians  content  with  their  con- 
quest of  the  Peloponnesus ;  troops  of  them  thronged  to  Asia; 
Cos,  and  the  wealthy  Rhodes,  as  well  as  the  cities  Halicar- 
nassus  and  Cnidus,  were  peopled  by  them.  In  this  manner, 
as  the  series  of  cities  planted  by  the  Grecians  ascended  the 
Macedonian  and  Thracian  coast  to  Byzantium,  the  iEgean 
Sea  was  encircled  with  Grecian  colonies,  and  its  islands  were 
covered  with  them.  But  the  mother  country  seems  soon  to 
have  been  filled  again  ;  and  as  the  east  offered  no  more  room, 
the  emigrants  wandered  to  the  west.  At  a  somewhat  later  pe- 
riod, but  with  hardly  less  success,  the  coasts  of  Lower  Italy, 
which  soon  took  the  name  of  Magna  Grsecia,  and  those  of 
Sicily,  were  occupied  by  Dorians,  Achseans,  and  lonians.^ 
On  the  gulf  of  Tarentum,  not  only  the  city  of  that  name, 
but  Croton  and  Sybaris  soon  rose  to  a  degree  of  population 
and  wealth,  bordering  on  the  fabulous ;  whilst  the  chain  of 
towns  extended  by  way  of  Rhegium  and  Psestum  as  far  as 
Cumae  and  Naples.  These  colonial  towns  were  still  more 
frequent  on  the  coasts  of  Sicily,  from  Messana  and  the  un- 
rivalled Syracuse  to  the  proud  Agrigentum.  And  in  the 
now  desolate  Barca,  on  the  coast  of  Libya,  Cyrene  flourished 
with  the  towns  of  which  it  was  the  metropolis,  and  proved 
that  Greeks  remained  true  to  their  origin  even  in  Africa. 
We  reserve  for  another  chapter  the  consideration  of  the 


»  Herod,  i.  142. 

*  Especially  between  the  years  800  and  700  before  the  Christian  era. 
single  colonies  were  earher  established. 


Yet 


THE  PERIOD  FOLLOWING  THE  HEROIC  AGE. 


65 


flourishing  condition  and  various  consequences  of  their  co- 
lonies. But  whilst  the  world  of  the  Greeks  and  their  circle 
of  vision  were  thus  enlarged,  it  was  not  possible  for  their 
political  condition  to  remain  unchanged.  Freedom  ripens 
in  colonies.  Beyond  the  sea,  ancient  usage  cannot  be  pre- 
served, cannot  altogether  be  renewed,  as  at  home.  The  for- 
mer bonds  of  attachment  to  the  soil  and  ancient  customs, 
were  broken  by  emigration ;  the  spirit  felt  itself  to  be  more 
free  in  the  new  country ;  new  strength  was  required  for  the 
necessary  exertions ;  and  those  exertions  were  animated  by 
success.  Where  every  man  lives  by  the  labour  of  his  hands, 
equality  arises,  even  if  it  did  not  exist  before.  Each  day 
is  fraught  with  new  experience ;  the  necessity  of  common 
defence  is  more  felt  in  lands  where  the  new  settlers  find  an- 
cient inhabitants  desirous  of  being  free  from  them.  Need 
we  wonder,  then,  if  the  authority  of  the  founders,  even  where 
it  had  originally  subsisted,  soon  gave  way  to  liberty  ? 

Similar  phenomena  are  observable  in  the  mother  country. 
The  annihilation  of  so  many  of  the  ruling  houses  in  the 
Trojan  war  and  its  immediate  consequences  would  have 
produced  them  even  without  internal  storms.  How  then 
could  the  ancient  order  of  things  be  restored,  after  so  great 
revolutions  and  such  changes  in  the  residence  of  nearly  all 
the  tribes  ?  The  heroic  age  disappeared ;  and  with  it  the 
supremacy  of  the  princes ;  and  when  heroes  came  forward, 
like  Aristomenes,  they  resemble  adventurers  rather  than  the 
sublime  figures  of  Homer.  On  the  other  hand,  the  inter- 
course and  trade  with  the  colonies  were  continued  on  all 
sides;  for,  according  to  the  Grecian  custom,  the  mother 
country  and  her  colonies  were  never  strangers  to  each  other; 
and  the  former  soon  had  a  lesson  to  learn  of  the  latter. 

A  new  order  of  things  was  the  necessary  consequence. 
The  ancient  ruling  families  died  away  of  themselves,  or  lost 
their  power.  But  this  did  not  take  place  in  all  or  most  of 
the  Grecian  cities  at  one  time,  but  very  gradually ;  and  he 
who  should  speak  of  a  general  political  revolution  in  the 
modern  phrase,  would  excite  altogether  erroneous  concep- 
tions. As  far  as  we  can  judge  from  the  imperfect  accounts 
which  remain  of  the  history  of  the  individual  states,  more 
than  a  century  elapsed  before  the  change  was  complete. 
We  cannot  fix  the  period  of  it  in  all  of  them ;  it  happened 


F 


66 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  v. 


THE  PERIOD  FOLLOWING  THE  HEROIC  AGE. 


67 


in  most  of  them  between  the  years  900  and  700  before 
Christ  •  in  others,  in  the  two  centuries  immediately  after  the 
Doric  emigration.  In  several,  as  in  Athens,  it  was  brought 
about  by  degrees.  In  that  city,  when  the  royal  dignity  was 
abolished  at  the  death  of  Codrus,^  archons,  differing  little 
from  kings,  were  appointed  from  his  family  for  life ;  these 
were  followed  by  archons  chosen  for  ten  years  ; '  and  these 
last  continued  for  seventy  years,  till  the  yearly  election  of  a 
college  of  archons  set  the  seal  to  democracy. 

The  fruit  of  these  changes  was  the  establishment  of  free 
constitutions  for  the  cities ;  which  constitutions  could  pros- 
per only  with  the  increasing  prosperity  of  the  towns.  Thu- 
cydides  has  described  to  us  in  an  admirable  manner  how 
this  happened.  "  In  those  times,"  says  he,"  "  no  important 
war,  which  could  give  a  great  ascendency  to  individual 
states,  was  carried  on ;  the  wars  which  chanced  to  arise, 
were 'only  with  the  nearest  neighbours."  Though  tran- 
quiUity  may  thus  have  sometimes  been  interrupted,  the  in- 
crease of  the  cities  could  not  be  retarded.  "  But  since 
colonies  were  established  beyond  the  sea,  several  of  the  cities 
began  to  apply  themselves  to  navigation  and  commerce;  and 
the  intercourse  kept  up  with  them  afforded  mutual  ad- 
vantages.* The  cities,"  continues  Thucydides,  "became 
more  powerful  and  more  wealthy ;  but  then  usurpers  arose 
in  most  of  them,  who  sought  only  to  confirm  their  own 
power,  and  enrich  their  own  families ;  but  performed  no 
great  exploits ;  until  they  were  overthrown,  not  long  before 
the  Persian  wars,  by  the  Spartans  (who,  amidst  all  those 
storms,  were  never  subjected  to  tyrants)  and  the   Athe- 


mans. 


The  essential  character  of  the  new  political  form  assumed 
by  Greece,  consisted  therefore  in  the  circumstance,  that  the 
free  states  which  were  formed,  were  nothing  but  cities  with 
their  districts,  and  their  constitutions  were  consequently 
only  forms  of  city  government.  This  point  of  view  must 
never  be  lost  sight  of  The  districts  into  which  Greece  was 
divided,  did  not  form,  as  such,  so  many  states ;  but  the  same 

»  In  the  year  1068  before  Christ.  *  In  the  year  752  before  Christ. 

'  Thucyd.  i.  15.  *  Thucyd.  i.  13. 

*  For  the  counterpart  to  the  narration  of  Thucydides,  we  need  only  call 
to  mind  the  history  of  the  Itahan  cities,  towards  the  end  of  the  middle  age. 


i 


often  contained  itiany  states,  if  it  possessed  several  inde- 
pendent cities;  though  a  whole  district  sometimes  formed  the 
territory  of  but  one  city,  as  Attica  of  Athens,  Laconia  of 
Sparta,  etc.,  and  in  such  a  case  formed  of  course  but  one 
state.  But  it  might  easily  happen,  that  the  cities  of  one 
district,  especially  if  their  inhabitants  were  of  kindred  tribes, 
formed  alliances  for  mutual  safety ;  as  the  twelve  Achsean 
cities  had  done.  But  these  alliances  had  reference  only  to 
foreign  relations ;  and  thus  they  formed  a  confederation  of 
cities,  but  not  one  state ;  for  each  individual  city  had  its  own 
internal  constitution,  and  managed  its  own  concerns.  It 
might  also  happen,  that  some  one  of  the  cities,  on  becoming 
powerful,  should  claim  the  sovereignty  over  the  rest;  as 
Thebes  over  the  Boeotian  cities.  But  however  far  such  a 
superior  rank  might  lead ;  it  was  intended  by  the  Greeks, 
not  only  that  each  state  should  preserve  its  internal  liberty ; 
but  that  its  submission  should  be  voluntary ;  although  the 
claims  of  a  supreme  city  occasionally  led  to  compulsory 
measures.  When  Thebes  usurped  the  first  rank  in  Boeotia, 
Plataeae  would  never  acknowledge  its  sovereignty.  The 
consequences  of  it  are  known  from  history. 

The  whole  political  life  of  the  nation  was  thus  connected 
with  cities  and  their  constitutions ;  and  no  one  can  judge  of 
Grecian  history  with  accuracy,  unless  he  comprehends  the 
spirit  of  them.  The  strength  of  such  cities  seems  to  be  very 
limited ;  but  the  history  of  the  world  abounds  in  examples, 
which  show  how  far  beyond  expectation  they  can  rise. 
They  are  animated  by  public  spirit,  resulting  from  civil 
prosperity ;  and  the  force  of  that  spirit  can  be  expressed  in 
no  statistical  tables. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


HOMER.    THE  EPIC  POETS. 


The  heroic  age  was  past,  before  the  poets,  who  cele- 
brated it,  arose.  It  produced  some  contemporary  with  it- 
self; but  their  fame  was  eclipsed  by  those  who  came  after 


F  2 


68 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  VI. 


them,  and  were  it  not  for  Homer,  the  names  of  Demodocus 
and  Phemius  had  never  become  immortal. 

With  the  Greeks,  epic  poetry  had  an  importance,  which 
it  possessed  among  no  other  people;  it  was  the  source  of 
their  national  education  in  poetry  and  the  arts.  It  became 
so  by  means  of  the  Homeric  poems.  But  boundless  as  was 
the  genius  of  the  Ionian  bard,  a  concurrence  of  favourable 
circumstances  was  still  needed,  to  prepare  for  his  appear- 
ance, and  to  make  it  possible.  ,      ,       . 

Epic  poetry  was  of  itself  a  fruit  of  the  heroic  age  ;^  just 
as  the  poetry  of  chivalry  was  the  result  of  the  age  of  chi- 
valry. The  picture  drawn  for  us  by  Homer  of  the  heroic 
times,  leaves  no  room  to  doubt  of  it.  The  feasts  of  the 
heroes,  like  the  banquets  of  the  knights,  were  ornamented 
with  song.  But  the  more  copious  the  stream  is  to  which 
it  swelled,  the  more  does  it  deserve  to  be  traced,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  its  origin. 

Even  before  the  heroic  age,  we  hear  of  several  poets,  of 
Orpheus,  Linus,  and  a  few  others.  But  if  their  hymns  were 
merely  invocations  and  eulogies  of  the  gods,  as  we  must 
infer  from  the  accounts  which  are  handed  down  to  us  re- 
specting them,^  no  similarity  seems  to  have  existed  between 
them  and  the  subsequent  heroic  poetry  ;  although  a  trans- 
ition not  only  became  possible,  but  actually  took  place,  when 
the  actions  of  the  gods  were  made  the  subjects  of  hymns.^ 
The  heroic  poetry,  according  to  all  that  we  know  of  it,  pre- 
served the  character  of  narration ;  whether  those  narrations 
contained  accounts  of  the  gods  or  of  heroes ;  ^  "the  actions 
of  gods  and  heroes,  who  were  celebrated  in  song."  In  the 
songs  of  Demodocus  amd  Phemius,  the  subject  is  taken  from 
the  one  and  from  the  other  ;  he  celebrates  the  loves  of  Mars 
and  Venus,*  no  less  than  the  adventures  which  took  place 
before  Troy.  The  latter  class  of  subjects  cannot  be  more 
ancient  than  the  heroic  age,  even  though  we  should  esteem 
the  former  as  much  older.  But  that  age  produced  the  class 
of  bards,  who  were  employed  in  celebrating  the  actions  of 

'  Our  present  Orphic  hymns  have  this  character.  The  more  ancient  ones, 
if  there  were  such,  were  nothing  else.  See  Pausanias  ix.  p.  770 ;  and  the 
very  ancient  hymn,  preserved  by  Stobaeus.  Stob.  Eclog.  i.  p.  40,  in  Heeren  s 
edition. 

'  The  proof  of  this  is  found  in  the  hymns  attributed  to  Homer. 

•  Odyss.  i.  338.  *  Odyss.  viii.  266,  etc. 


HOMER.     THE  EPIC  POETS. 


69 


^ 


the  heroes.     They  formed  a  separate  class  in  society ;  but 
they  stood  on  an  equal  footing  with  the  heroes,  and  are  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  them.^     The  gift  of  song  came  to 
them  from  the  gods  ;  it  is  the  Muse,  or  Jove  himself,  who 
inspires  them  and  teaches  them  what  they  should  sing.^ 
As  this  representation  continually  recurs,  it  is  probable  that 
their  poetic  effusions  were  often  extemporaneous.     At  least 
this  seems  in  many  cases  hardly  to  admit  of  a  doubt.    Ulys- 
ses proposes  to  Demodocus  the  subject  of  his  song ;  ^  and 
the  bard,  like  the  modern  improvisatori,  commences  his 
strains  under  the  influence  of  the  sudden  inspiration.    We 
would  by  no  means  be  understood  to  assert,  that  there  were 
none  but  extemporaneous  productions.     Certain  songs  very 
naturally  became  favourites,   and  were  kept  alive  in  the 
mouths  of  the  poets ;  whilst  an  infinite  number,  which  were 
but  the  offspring  of  the  moment,  died  away  at  their  birth. 
But  an  abundance  of  songs  was  needed  ;  a  variety  was  re- 
quired, and  the  charm  of  novelty  even  then  enforced  its 
claims.* 

For  novel  lays  attract  our  ravished  ears ; 
But  old  the  mind  with  inattention  hears. 

The  voice  was  always  accompanied  by  some  instrument. 
The  bard  was  provided  with  a  harp,  on  which  he  played  a 
prelude,^  to  elevate  and  inspire  his  mind,  and  with  which 
he  accompanied  the  song  when  begun.  His  voice  probably 
preserved  a  medium  between  singing  and  recitation;  the 
words,  and  not  the  melody,  were  regarded  by  the  listeners; 
hence  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  remain  intelligible  to  all. 
In  countries  where  nothing  similar  is  found,  it  is  difficult  to 
represent  such  scenes  to  the  mind  ;  but  whoever  has  had  an 
opportunity  of  listening  to  the  improvisatori  of  Italy,  can 
easily  form  an  idea  of  Demodocus  and  Phemius. 

However  imperfect  our  ideas  of  the  earliest  heroic  songs 
may  remain  after  all  which  the  poet  has  told  us,  the  fol- 
lowing positions  may  be  inferred  from  it.  First:  The 
singers  were  at  the  same  time  poets  ;  they  sang  their  own 
works ;  there  is  no  trace  of  their  having  sung  those  of  others. 
Farther :  their  songs  were  poured  forth  from  the  inspiration 

*  Od.  viii.  483.     Demodocus  himself  is  here  called  a  Hero. 
Od.  yiii.  73,  i.  348.  »  Od.  viii.  492,  etc.,  a  leading  passage. 

^<^- 1-352.  *  av«i3(iXX€(rdai,  Od.  viii.  266,  etc. 


70 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    VI. 


of  the  moment ;  or  only  reposed  in  their  memory.  In  the 
former  case,  they  were,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  im- 
provisatori ;  and,  in  the  latter,  they  must  necessarily  have 
remained  in  some  measure  improvisatori,  for  they  lived  in 
an  age,  which,  even  if  it  possessed  the  alphabet,  seems  never 
to  have  thought  of  committing  poems  to  writing.  The  epic 
poetry  of  the  Greeks  did  not  continue  to  be  mere  extempo- 
raneous effusions;  but  it  seems  to  us  very  probable,  that 
such  was  its  origin.  Lastly :  Although  the  song  was  some- 
times accompanied  by  a  dance  illustrative  of  its  subject, 
imitative  gestures  are  never  attributed  to  the  bard  himself 
There  are  dancers  for  that.  Epic  poetry  and  the  ballet  can 
thus  be  united ;  but  the  union  was  not  essential,  and  pro- 
bably took  place  only  in  the  histories  concerning  the  gods.^ 
This  union  was  very  natural.  Under  the  southern  skies  of 
Europe,  no  proper  melody  is  required  for  the  imitative 
dance ;  it  is  only  necessary  that  the  time  should  be  distinctly 
marked.  When  the  bard  did  this  with  his  lyre,  the  dancers, 
as  well  as  himself,  had  all  that  they  required. 

This  heroic  poetry,  which  was  so  closely  interwoven  with 
social  life,  that  it  could  be  spared  at  no  cheering  banquet, 
was  common,  no  doubt,  throughout  all  Hellas.  We  hear  its 
strains  in  the  island  of  the  Phaeacians,  no  less  than  in  the 
dwelhngs  of  Ulysses  and  Menelaus.  The  poet  does  not  bring 
before  us  strict  contests  in  song;  but  we  may  learn,  that 
the  spirit  of  emulation  was  strong,  and  that  some  believed 
themselves  already  perfect  in  their  art,  from  the  story  of  the 
Thracian  Thamyris,  who  wished  to  contend  with  the  muses, 
and  was  punished  for  his  daring  by  the  loss  of  the  light  of 
his  eyes,  and  the  art  of  song.^ 

Epic  poetry  emigrated  with  the  colonies  to  the  shores  of 
Asia.  When  we  remeniber,  that  those  settlements  were 
made  during  the  heroic  age,  and  that  in  part  the  sons  and 
posterity  of  the  princes,  in  whose  halls  at  Argos  and  My- 
cenae its  echoes  had  formerly  been  heard,  were  the  leaders 
of  those  expeditions,^  this  will  hardly  seem  doubtful,  and  still 
less  improbable. 

But  that  epic  poetry  should  have  first  displayed  its  full 

*  As  in  the  story  of  the  amour  of  Mars  and  Venus.     Od.  viii. 

*  II.  Cat.  Nav.  102. 

"  As  Orestes  and  his  descendants. 


HOMER.    THE  EPIC  POETS. 


71 


glory  in  those  regions,  and  should  have  raised  itself  to  the 
sublimity  and  extent  which  it  obtained ;  was  more  than 
could  have  been  expected. 

And  yet  it  was  so.  Homer  appeared.  The  history  of  the 
poet  and  his  works  is  lost  in  doubtful  obscurity ;  as  is  the 
history  of  many  of  the  first  minds  who  have  done  honour  to 
humanity,  because  they  arose  amidst  darkness.  The  ma- 
jestic stream  of  his  song,  blessing  and  fertilizing,  flows,  like 
the  Nile,  through  many  lands  and  nations  ;  like  the  sources 
of  the  Nile,  its  fountains  will  remain  concealed. 

It  cannot  be  the  object  of  these  essays,  to  enter  anew 
into  these  investigations,  which  probably  have  already  been 
carried  as  far  as  the  present  state  of  criticism  and  learning 
will  admit.^  The  modern  inquirers  can  hardly  be  reproached 
with  credulity,  for  nothing,  which  could  be  doubted,  not 
even  the  existence  of  Homer  himself,  has  been  left  un- 
questioned. When  once  the  rotten  fabric  of  ancient  belief 
was  examined,  no  one  of  the  pillars,  on  which  it  rested, 
could  escape  inspection.  The  general  result  was,  that  the 
whole  building  rested  far  more  on  the  foundation  of  tradi- 
tion, than  of  credible  history  ;  but  how  far  this  foundation 
is  secure,  is  a  question,  respecting  which,  the  voices  will 
hardly  be  able  to  unite. 

It  seems  of  chief  importance  to  expect  no  more  than  the 
nature  of  things  makes  possible.  If  the  period  of  tradition 
in  history  is  the  region  of  twilight,  we  should  not  expect 
in  it  perfect  light.  The  creations  of  genius  remain  always 
half  miracles,  because  they  are,  for  the  most  part,  created 
far  from  the  reach  of  observation.  If  we  were  in  possession 
of  all  the  historic  testimonies,  we  never  could  wholly  explain 
the  origin  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey ;  for  their  origin,  in 
all  essential  points,  must  have  remained  the  secret  of  the 
poet.  But  we  can,  to  a  certain  extent,  explain  how,  under 
the  circumstances  of  those  times,  an  epic  poet  could  arise ; 
how  he  could  elevate  his  mind  ;  and  how  he  could  become 
of  such  importance  to  his  nation  and  to  posterity.  This  is 
all  to  which  our  inquiry  should  be  directed. 

The  age  of  Homer,  according  to  all  probability,  was  that 
in  which  the  Ionian  colonies  flourished  in  the  vigour  of 

*  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  refer  to  the  Excursus  of  Heyne  on  the  last  book 
of  the  Iliad ;  and  the  Prolegomena  of  Wolf. 


72 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  VI. 


youth.^  Their  subsequent  condition  shows  that  this  must 
have  been  so  ;  although  history  has  not  preserved  for  us  any 
particular  account  on  the  subject.  It  is  easy  to  conceive, 
that  in  a  country  highly  favoured  by  nature ;  external  cir- 
cumstances could  afford  the  poet  many  facilities,  by  means 
of  the  forms  of  social  life,  of  which  song  was  the  companion. 
But  the  circumstances  of  the  times  afforded  many  greater 
advantages  to  poetic  genius. 

The  glimmerings  of  tradition  were  not  yet  departed.  The 
expedition  against  Troy,  and  the  efforts  of  the  earlier  poets, 
had  rather  contributed  so  to  mature  the  traditions,  that 
they  offered  the  noblest  subjects  for  national  poems.  Before 
that  time,  the  heroes  of  the  several  tribes  had  been  of  im- 
portance to  none  but  their  tribe ;  but  those  who  were  dis- 
tinguished in  the  common  undertaking  against  Troy,  became 
heroes  of  the  nation.  Their  actions  and  their  sufferings 
awakened  a  general  interest.  Add  to  this,  that  these  actions 
and  adventures  had  already  been  celebrated  by  many  of 
the  early  bards ;  and  that  they  had  even  then  imparted  to 
the  whole  of  history  the  poetic  character,  which  distinguished 
it.  Time  is  always  needed  to  mature  tradition  for  the  epic 
poet.  The  songs  of  a  Phemius  and  a  Demodocus,  though 
the  subjects  of  them  were  taken  from  that  war,  were  but  the 
first  essays,  which  died  away,  as  the  ancient  songs  have  done, 
which  commemorated  the  exploits  of  the  crusaders.  It  was 
not  till  three  hundred  years  after  the  loss  of  the  Holy  Land, 
that  the  poet  appeared  who  was  to  celebrate  the  glory  of 
Godfrey  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  hero ;  more  time  had 
perhaps  passed  after  Achilles  and  Hector  fell  in  battle,  be- 
fore the  Grecian  poet  secured  to  them  their  immortality. 

The  language  no  less  than  the  subject  had  been  improved  in 
this  age.  Although  neither  all  its  words  nor  its  phrases  were 
limited  in  their  use  by  strict  grammatical  rules,  it  was  by  no 
means  awkward  or  rough.  It  had  for  centuries  been  im- 
proved by  the  poets,  and  had  now  become  a  poetic  language. 
It  almost  seemed  more  easy  to  make  use  of  it  in  verse  than 
m  prose ;  and  the  forms  of  the  hexameter,  of  which  alone 

J  The  age  of  Homer  is  usually  set  about  a  century  after  the  foundation  of 
those  colonies,  about  the  year  950  before  Christ,  If  it  be  true,  that  Lycurffus, 
whose  laws  were  given  about  the  year  880,  introduced  his  poems  into  Sparta, 
he  cannot  be  much  younger.  We  must  leave  to  others  the  prosecution  of 
these  inquiries.  *^ 


HOMER.     THE  EPIC  POETS. 


73 


the  epic  poet  made  use,  are  extremely  simple.^  The  lan- 
guage voluntarily  submitted  to  the  poet ;  and  there  never 
was  a  tongue,  in  which  inspiration  could  have  poured  itself 
forth  with  more  readiness  and  ease. 

Under  such  circumstances  it  is  intelligible,  that  when  a 
sublime  poetic  genius  arose  among  a  people  so  fond  of 
poetry  and  song  as  the  lonians  always  were,  the  age  was  fa- 
vourable to  him;  although  the  elevated  creations  of  his 
mind  must  continue  to  appear  wonderful.  There  are  two 
things,  which  in  modern  times  appear  most  remarkable  and 
difficult  of  explanation ;  how  a  poet  could  have  first  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  so  extensive  a  whole,  as  the  Iliad  and  the 
Odyssey ;  and  how  works  of  such  extent  could  have  been 
finished  and  preserved,  without  the  aid  of  writing. 

With  regard  to  the  first  point,  criticism  has  endeavoured 
to  show,  and  has  succeeded  in  showing,  that  these  poems, 
especially  the  Iliad,  have  by  no  means  that  perfect  unity 
which  they  were  formerly  believed  to  possess ;  that  rather 
many  whole  pieces  have  been  interpolated  or  annexed  to 
them ;  and  there  hardly  exists  at  present  an  inquiring  scho- 
lar, who  can  persuade  himself,  that  we  possess  them  both  in 
the  same  state  in  which  they  came  from  the  hands  of  the 
poet.  But  notwithstanding  the  more  or  less  frequent  inter- 
polations, each  has  but  one  primary  action ;  which,  althouoh 
it  is  interrupted  by  frequent  episodes,  could  hardly  have 
been  introduced  by  any  but  the  original  author ;  and  which 
does  not  permit  us  to  consider  either  of  these  poems  as  a 
mere  collection  of  scattered  rhapsodies.  It  is  certainly  a 
gigantic  step,  to  raise  epic  poetry  to  the  unity  of  the  chief 
action ;  but  the  idea  springs  from  the  very  nature  of  a  nar- 
ration ;  and  therefore  it  did  not  stand  in  need  of  a  theory, 
which  was  foreign  to  the  age ;  genius  was  able  of  itself  to 
take  this  step.^  Herodotus  did  something  similar  in  the 
department  of  history. 

*  How  much  easier  it  must  have  been  to  make  extemporaneous  verses  in 
that  measure,  than  in  the  ottava  rima  of  the  Italians.  And  yet  the  Italian 
wears  its  shackles  with  the  greatest  ease. 

*  A  more  plausible  objection  is  this :  that  even  if  it  be  conceded,  that  it  was 
possible  to"  invent  and  execute  such  large  poems,  they  would  have  answered 
no  end,  as  they  were  too  long  to  admit  of  being  recited  at  once.  But  a  reply 
may  be  made  to  this.  The  IHad  and  Odyssey  could  not  be  recited  at  a  ban- 
quet. But  there  were  public  festivals  and  assemblies  which  lasted  many  days, 
and  Herodotus  read  aloud  the  nine  books  of  his  history,  in  a  succession  of 


74 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.   VI. 


We  find  it  still  more  difficult  to  comprehend  how  works 
of  this  extent  could  have  been  planned  and  executed  without 
the  aid  of  letters,  and  preserved,  probably  for  a  long  time, 
till  they  were  finally  saved  from  perishing  by  being  com- 
mitted  to  writing.  We  will  not  here  repeat  at  large,  what 
has  already  been  said  by  others;  that  a  class  of  singers,  de- 
voted exclusively  to  this  business,  could  easily  preserve  m 
memory  much  more  ;  that  the  poems  were  recited  in  parts, 
and  therefore  needed  to  be  remembered  only  in  parts ;  and 
that  even  in  a  later  age,  when  the  Homeric  poems  had  al- 
ready been  intrusted  to  writing,  the  rhapsodists  still  knew 
them  so  perfectly,  (as  we  must  infer  from  the  Ion  of  Plato,) 
that  they  could  readily  recite  any  passage  which  was  desired. 
But  let  us  be  permitted  to  call  to  mind  a  fact,  which  has 
come  to  light  since  the  modern  inquiries  respecting  Homer, 
and  which  proves,  that  poems  of  even  greater  extent  than 
the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  can  live  in  the  memory  and 
mouths  of  a  nation.  The  Dschangariade  of  the  Calmucks  is 
said  to  surpass  the  poems  of  Homer  in  length,  as  much  as 
it  stands  beneath  them  in  merit;'  and  yet  it  exists  only  in 
the  memory  of  a  people,  which  is  not  unacquainted  with 
writing.  But  the  songs  of  a  nation  are  probably  the  last 
things  which  are  committed  to  writing,  for  the  very  reason 
that  they  are  remembered. 

But  whatever  opinions  may  be  entertained  on  the  origin 
of  these  poems,  and  whether  we  ascribe  them  to  one  author 
or  to  several,  it  will  hardly  be  doubted  that  they  all  belong, 
on  the  whole,  to  one  age,  which  we  call,  in  a  larger  sense, 

days,  at  Olympia.  The  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  which  when  free  from  interpola- 
tions were  perhaps  much  shorter  than  they  now  are,  may  have  been  recited 
in  the  course  of  several  days.  And  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  indulge  in 
conjecture,  why  may  they  not  have  been  designed  for  such  occasions  ?  That 
the  Greeks  were  accustomed  to  intellectual  enjoyments,  interrupted  and  after- 
wards continued,  appears  from  the  Tetralogies  of  the  Dramatists  in  a  later  age. 
This  is  characteristic  of  a  nation,  which  even  in  its  pleasures  desired  some- 
thing more  than  pastime,  and  always  aimed  at  grandeur  and  beauty. 

'  See  on  this  subject  B.  Bergmann,  Nomadische,  Streifereyen  unter  den 
Kalmycken,  B.  2,  S.  213,  etc.  This  Calmuck  Homer  flourished  in  the  last 
century.  He  is  said  to  have  sune  three  hundred  and  sixty  cantos  ;  but  this 
number  may  be  exaggerated.  Of  the  singers,  called  Dschangartschi,  it  is  not 
easy  to  find  one,  who  knows  more  than  twenty  by  heart.  In  the  fourth  part 
of  his  work,  Mr.  Bergmann  has  given  us  a  translation  of  one  of  them,  which 
is  about  equal  in  length  to  a  rhapsody  of  Homer.  It  thus  appears  to  be  no 
uncommon  thing  for  the  Calmuck  singers  to  retain  in  memory  a  poem  quite 
as  long  as  the  iBad  or  Odyssey. 


HOMER.     THE  EPIC  POETS. 


75 


the  age  of  Homer.  The  important  fact  is,  that  we  possess 
them.  Whatever  hypothesis  we  may  adopt  on  their  origin 
and  formation,  their  influence  on  the  Grecian  nation  and  on 
posterity  remains  the  same.  And  these  are  the  topics  which 
claim  our  regard. 

It  was  Homer  who  formed  the  character  of  the  Greek 
nation.  No  poet  has  ever,  as  a  poet,  exercised  a  similar  in- 
fluence over  his  countrymen.  Prophets,  lawgivers,  and 
sages  have  formed  the  character  of  other  nations ;  it  was  re- 
served to  a  poet  to  form  that  of  the  Greeks.  This  is  a  trait 
in  their  character,  which  could  not  be  wholly  erased  even  in 
the  period  of  their  degeneracy.  When  lawgivers  and  sages 
appeared  in  Greece,  the  work  of  the  poet  had  already  been 
accomplished ;  and  they  paid  homage  to  his  superior  genius. 
,  He  held  up  before  his  nation  the  mirror,  in  which  they 
were  to  behold  the  world  of  gods  and  heroes  no  less  than  of 
feeble  mortals,  and  to  behold  them  reflected  with  purity  and 
truth.  His  poems  are  founded  on  the  first  feelings  of  hu- 
man nature  ;  on  the  love  of  children,  wife,  and  country ;  on 
that  passion  which  outweighs  all  others,  the  love  of  glory. 
His  songs  were  poured  forth  from  a  breast,  which  sympa- 
thized with  all  the  feelings  of  man;  and  therefore  they 
enter,  and  will  continue  to  enter,  every  breast,  which  cher- 
ishes the  same  sympathies.  If  it  is  granted  to  his  immortal 
spirit,  from  another  heaven  than  any  of  which  he  dreamed 
on  earth,  to  look  down  on  his  race,  to  see  the  nations  from 
the  fields  of  Asia  to  the  forests  of  Hercynia,  performing 
pilgrimages  to  the  fountain,  which  his  magic  wand  caused 
to  flow ;  if  it  is  permitted  him  to  overlook  the  whole  harvest 
of  grand,  of  elevated,  of  glorious  productions,  which  have 
been  called  into  being  by  means  of  his  songs ;  wherever  his 
immortal  spirit  may  reside,  nothing  more  can  be  required  to 
complete  his  happiness. 

Wherever  writing  is  known,  where  it  is  used  for  the  pur- 
pose of  preserving  poems,  and  thus  a  poetic  literature  is 
formed,  the  muse  loses  her  youthful  freshness.  Works  of 
the  greatest  merit  may  still  be  produced ;  but  poetry  exerts 
Its  full  influence  only  so  long  as  it  is  considered  inseparable 
from  recitation.  The  Homeric  poems  were  therefore  so  far 
from  having  produced  a  less  considerable  effect,  because 
they  for  a  long  time  were  not  written  down,  that  the  source 


76 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  VI. 


of  their  power  lay  in  this  very  circumstance.  They  entered 
the  memory  and  the  soul  of  the  nation.  If  we  were  better 
acquainted  with  the  forms  of  social  life,  which  were  preva- 
lent in  the  cities  of  Ionia,  and  with  which  poetry  necessarily 
stood  in  the  closest  union,  we  should  be  able  to  judge  more 
definitely  of  its  effects.  The  nature  of  things  seems  to  show, 
that  there,  as  in  the  mother  country,  they  must  have  been 
sung  at  festivals  and  assemblies,  whether  public  or  private. 
This  custom  was  so  deeply  fixed  in  the  nation,  that  it  con- 
tinued long  after  these  poem^s  were  committed  to  writing, 
and  were  thus  accessible  to  a  reader,  and  in  fact,  that  it  was 
declamation  which  continued  to  give  them  their  full  effect. 
We  need  but  call  to  mind  the  remark,  which  Ion,  the  rhap- 
sodist,  makes  to  Socrates;^  "I  see  the  hearers  now  weep 
and  now  rise  in  passion,  and  appear  as  if  deprived  of  sensa- 
tion." If  the  rhapsodists,  in  an  age  when  all  that  was  divine 
in  their  art  had  passed  away,  and  when  they  sung  only  for 
money,  could  produce  such  effects,  how  great  must  have 
been  their  influence  in  the  period  of  their  greatest  glory  ! 

Since  the  time  of  Homer,  and  chiefly  through  him, 
great  changes  in  the  relations  of  the  class  of  bards  neces- 
sarily took  place ;  and  the  traces  of  such  changes  are  still 
distinct.  Originally  they  sang  only  their  own  compositions, 
but  now  it  became  the  custom  to  sing  those  of  others,  which 
they  had  committed  to  memory.  In  that  part  of  Asia  which 
was  inhabited  by  Greeks,  and  especially  at  Chios,  where 
Homer  is  said  to  have  lived,^  a  particular  school  of  bards 
was  formed  which,  even  among  the  ancients,  were  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Homeridae.  Whether  these  consisted 
originally  of  the  family  relations  of  the  poet,  is  a  question  of 
no  interest ;  it  became  the  name  of  those  rhapsodists,  who 
sang  the  poems  of  Homer,  or  those  attributed  to  him.  They 
are  therefore  distinguished  from  the  earlier  rhapsodists  by 
this,  that  they  sang  not  their  own  works,  but  those  of  an- 

'Plat.  Op.  iv.  p.  190. 

*  According  to  the  well-known  passage  in  the  hymn  to  Apollo,  cited  by 
Thucydides,  iii.  104.  "A  blind  man  ;  he  dwells  on  the  rocky  Chios ;  and  his 
songs  are  the  first  among  men."  Even  if  this  hymn  be  not  by  Homer,  (the  age 
of  Thucydides  esteemed  it  certainly  his,)  it  must  have  been  composed  in  an 
aee  which  approached  that  of  Homer.  That  Homer  was  an  inhabitant  of 
Criios,  is  an  account,  for  the  truth  of  which  we  have  no  guaranty  but  tradition. 
But  that  tradition  is  a  very  ancient  one,  and  the  account  contains  nothing 
which  is  in  itself  improbable,  or  which  should  induce  us  to  doubt  its  accuracy. 


HOMER.    THE  EPIC  POETS. 


77 


other ;  and  this  appears  to  have  been  the  first  change,  which 
was  effected,  though  without  design,  by  Homer.  But  we 
may  find,  in  the  gradual  progress  of  the  cities,  and  the  modes 
of  living  in  them,  a  chief  cause  of  a  change  in  the  rhapso- 
dists, which  could  not  be  very  advantageous  for  them.  In 
these  cities,  there  may  have  been  houses  of  the  opulent,  and 
public  halls,^  in  which  they  could  recite ;  but  they  found 
no  longer  the  dwellings  of  heroes  and  kings.  Little  confi- 
dence as  we  may  place  in  the  life  of  Homer  attributed  to 
Herodotus,  and  several  other  writings ;  it  is  still  remarkable, 
that  all  unite  in  describing  the  fortunes  of  the  poet  during 
his  lifetime,  as  by  no  means  splendid.  But  his  songs  con- 
tinued to  live,  and,  probably  in  the  very  first  century  after 
the  poet,  were  carried  by  Lycurgus  into  the  Peloponnesus ; 
and  from  the  same  school,  other  epic  poets  also  started  up, 
whose  works  have  been  overwhelmed  by  the  stream  of  time.'^ 
A  happy  accident  has  preserved  for  us  the  general  contents 
of  a  few  of  them;  ^  but,  though  these  accounts  are  meagre, 
we  may  still  infer  from  them,  that  even  among  the  ancients, 
they  were  chiefly  of  interest  to  the  professed  student  of  liter- 
ature, and  that  they  never  gained  any  claim  to  be  called 
national  poems.  But  the  works  of  these,  and  so  many 
others,  of  whom  we  know  only  the  names,  show  how  gener- 

*  The  Xiiixat.  We  are  almost  involuntarily  reminded  of  similar  appearances, 
which  marked  the  decline  of  the  poetry  of  chivalry,  in  the  age  of  those  whom 
we  commonly  call  our  master  singers.  The  inquiry  might  be  made,  whether 
the  relations  of  city  life  had  an  equal  influence  on  the  school  or  fraternity  of 
rhapsodists,  who  separated  themselves  still  more  observably  from  the  rest  of 
society  ? 

*  The  Cyclic  poets,  as  they  are  called,  who  treated  subjects  of  mythological 
tradition,  or  the  cyclus  of  traditions  respecting  the  Trojan  expedition.  See 
on  this  subject,  Excurs.  i.  ad^Eneid.  L.  ii.  ed.  Heynii. 

'  In  the  selections  of  Proclus,  in  Bibl.  d.  alten  Litt.  und  Kunst.  St.  i.  In- 
edita,  p,  1,  etc.  These  are,l.  The  Cyprian  poem,  probably  by  Stasinus  of 
Cyprus.  It  contained,  in  eleven  books,  the  earlier  events  of  the  Trojan  war 
before  the  action  of  the  Iliad.  2.  The  iEthiopis  of  Arctinus  the  Melesian;  con- 
taining, in  five  books,  the  expedition  and  death  of  Memnon.  3.  The  small 
Iliad  of  Lesches  of  Mitylene ;  embracing,  in  four  books,  the  contention  of 
Ajax  and  Ulysses,  till  the  preparation  of  the  Trojan  horse.  4.  The  destruc- 
tion of  Troy  ('iXiov  nkpfftg)  of  Arctinus,  in  two  books.  5.  The  return  of  the 
heroes  (voaroi)  of  Augias,  in  five  books.  6.  The  Teleeoniad,  or  fates  of 
Ulysses  after  his  return,  by  Eugammon,in  two  books.  Trie  contents  of  these 
poems,  as  here  given,  show,  that  no  one  of  them  can  be  compared,  in  point  of 
plan,  with  the  epopees  of  Homer.  But  these  poems  must  also  for  a  long  time 
nave  been  preserved  by  song  alone ;  for  their  authors,  although  somewhat 
vounger  than  Homer,  still  lived  in  times,  when,  according  to  all  that  we 
know,  letters  were  but  litte  used,  or  perhaps  entirely  unknown. 


^te 


78 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   VI. 


HOMER.     THE  EPIC  POETS. 


79 


ally  epic  poetry  was  extended  among  the  nation.  After  the 
epic  language  had  once  been  perfected  by  Homer,  it  re- 
mained peculiar  to  this  kind  of  poetry ;  and  when  we  read 
the  works  of  much  later  poets,  of  Quintus,  or  of  Nonnus, 
we  might  believe  ourselves  employed  on  authors  many  cen- 
turies older  than  they,  had  we  not  other  evidence  beside  their 
language  to  fix  the  period  in  which  they  lived.  That  the 
dialect  of  Homer  remained  the  principal  one  for  this  class  of 
poetry,  had  an  important  influence  on  Grecian  literature. 
Amidst  all  the  changes  and  improvements  in  language,  it 
prevented  the  ancient  from  becoming  antiquated,  and  se- 
cured it  a  place  among  the  later  modes  of  expression.  This 
was  a  gain  for  the  language  and  for  the  nation.  With  the 
dialect  of  Homer,  his  spirit  continued  in  some  measure  to 
live  among  the  epic  poets.  Language  cannot  of  itself  make 
a  poet ;  but  yet  how  much  depends  on  language !  If  in 
those  later  poets  we  occasionally  hear  echoes  of  Homer,  is 
it  not  sometimes  his  spirit  which  addresses  us  ? 

But  his  influence  on  the  spirit  of  his  countrymen  was 
much  more  important  than  his  influence  on  their  language. 
He  had  delineated  the  world  of  heroes  in  colours  which  can 
never  fade.  He  had  made  it  present  to  posterity  *  and  thus 
the  artist  and  the  tragic  poet  iFound  a  sphere  opened  for  the 
employment  of  their  powers  of  representation.  And  the 
scenes  from  which  they  drew  their  subjects,  could  not  have 
remained  foreign  to  their  countrymen.  We  do  but  touch 
on  this  subject,  in  order  to  say  something  on  the  point 
which  lies  particularly  within  the  circle  of  our  inquiries; 
the  influence  which  Homer  and  the  epic  poets  exercised  on 
the  political  character  of  their  countrymen. 

When  we  compare  the  scanty  fragments  which  are  still 
extant,  respecting  the  circulation  and  preservation  of  the 
poems  of  Homer,  it  is  remarkable  that  in  Hellas  itself,  the 
lawgivers  and  rulers  were  the  most  active  in  making  them 
known  and  in  saving  them  from  perishing.  Lycurgus,  we 
are  told,  was  the  first  who  introduced  them  into  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus by  means  of  the  rhapsodists ;  Solon  esteemed  the 
subject  so  important,  that  in  his  code  of  laws,  he  formed 
distinct  regulations,  in  conformity  to  which  it  seems  probable 
that  the  several  rhapsodies  were  recited,  not  as  before  with- 
out method,  but  in  their  natural  order,  by  several  rhapsodists, 


who  relieved  each  other.  All  this  prepared  for  the  un- 
dertaking of  Pisistratus ;  who,  according  to  the  accounts  of 
the  ancients,  not  only  arranged  the  poems  of  Homer,  but 
gained  a  claim  to  the  eternal  gratitude  of  posterity,  by  com- 
mitting them  to  writing.^ 

This  care  in  those  illustrious  men  did  not  result  from  a 
mere  admiration  of  poetry.  That  it  was  connected  with 
political  views,  if  such  confirmation  were  needed,  appears 
from  the  circumstance,  that  Solon  took  notice  of  it  in  his 
laws.  Were  we  to  form  a  judgment  on  this  subject  from 
the  narrow  views  of  our  own  times,  it  would  seem  strange, 
that  they  who  founded  or  confirmed  the  government  of  a 
number,  even  a  democracy,  should  have  laboured  to  extend 
the  productions  of  a  bard,  who  was  opposed  to  their  princi- 
ples, and  declares  his  political  creed  without  disguise  ;^  "  no 
good  comes  of  the  government  of  the  many ;  let  one  be  ruler, 
and  one  be  king  ; "  and  in  whose  works,  as  we  have  already 
remarked,  republicanism  finds  no  support.  But  their  views 
were  not  so  limited.  Their  object  was  not  to  confirm,  by 
means  of  the  poet,  their  own  institutions  and  their  own  laws. 
They  desired  to  animate  their  nation  with  a  love  for  excel- 
lence and  sublimity.  Poetry  and  song,  indissolubly  united, 
seemed  to  them  the  fittest  means  of  gaining  that  end.  These 
had  the  greatest  influence  on  the  intellectual  culture  of  the 
people.  And  if  that  culture  lay  within  the  sphere  of  the 
Grecian  lawgivers,  (and  it  always  did,  though  in  different 
degrees,)  of  what  importance  in  their  eyes  must  that  poet 
have  been,  whose  poems,  above  all  others,  were  recited  by 
the  class  of  rhapsodists,  that  lent  a  glory  to  the  national  fes- 
tivals and  assemblies  ?  Solon,  himself  one  of  the  first  of  moral 
poets,  could  not  but  perceive,  how  much  experience  and 
knowledge  of  the  world  are  contained  in  those  books,  with 
which  youth  is  begun,  and  to  which  age  returns.  No  fear 
was  entertained,  lest  the  narrations  respecting  the  gods 
should  be  injurious  to  morals  ;  although  that  fear  afterwards 
induced  Plato  to  banish  them  from  his  republic ;  the  philo- 
sopher, who  but  for  Homer  never  could  have  become 
Plato.  For,  as  we  have  already  remarked,  the  gods  were 
not  held  up  as  models  for  imitation.     But  whilst  the  people 

*  The  passages  in  proof  of  this  are  collected  and  duly  weighed  in  the  Prole- 
gomena of  Wolf,  p.  139,  etc.  2 II.  ii.  204. 


I 


80 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  VII. 


was  enriching  itself  with  that  infinite  treasure  of  practical 
wisdom,  it  continued  at  the  same  time  to  live  in  a  world  of 
heroes,  and  to  preserve  living  sensibility  to  the  great  and 
the  noble.  Of  this  it  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  conse- 
quences, the  gain  of  the  nation  as  a  nation,  by  the  encour- 
agement of  its  warlike  spirit,  by  the  preservation  of  its  love 
of  liberty  and  independence.  In  one  respect,  those  law- 
givers were  unquestionably  in  the  right ;  a  nation,  of  which 
the  culture  rested  on  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  could  not  easily 
be  reduced  to  a  nation  of  slaves. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MEANS  OF  PRESERVING  THE  NATIONAL  CHARACTER. 

The  Greeks,  though  divided  at  home,  and  extended  widely 
in  foreign  countries,  always  considered  themselves  as  form- 
mg  but  one  nation.  The  character  of  the  Hellenes  was 
no  where  obliterated ;  the  citizen  of  Massilia  and  Byzan- 
tmm  retained  it  no  less  than  the  Spartan  and  Athenian. 
The  name  barbarian,  although  it  was  applied  to  all  who 
were  not  Greeks,  conveyed  a  secondary  idea,  which  was 
closely  interwoven  with  the  Grecian  character ;  that  they 
esteemed  themselves  more  cultivated  than  the  rest  of  the 
world.  It  was  not  that  gross  kind  of  national  pride,  which 
despises  all  foreigners  because  they  are  foreigners;  even 
where  it  was  in  itself  unjust,  its  origin  was  a  just  one'. 

But  this  higher  culture  could  never  have  remained  a  bond 
of  national  union,  the  different  tribes  of  the  Hellenes  pos- 
sessed It  in  such  different  degrees.  External  marks  were 
therefore  needed.  These  were  afforded  by  two  things ;  by 
language,  and  certain  institutions  sanctioned  by  religion. 

Various  and  different  as  were  the  dialects  of  the  Hellenes,' 
—and  these  differences  existed  not  only  among  the  various 
tribes,  but  even  among  the  several  neighbourino-  cities,— 
they  yet  acknowledged  in  their  language,  that  they  formed 
but  one  nation,  were  but  branches  of  the   same  family. 

•  See  what  Herodotus  says  of  the  dialects  of  the  Grecian  cities  in  Asia,  i.  142. 


PRESERVATION  OF  THE  NATIONAL  CHARACTER. 


81 


Those  who  were  not  Greeks,  were  described  even  by  Homer,^ 
as  "men  of  other  tongues ;"  and  yet  Homer  had  no  general 
name  for  the  nation.  But  though  the  bond  of  a  common 
language  may  be  a  natural  and  an  indissoluble  one,  some- 
thing more  is  required  to  make  it  serve  as  the  bond  of 
national  union.  The  language  must  be  not  merely  the  in- 
strument of  communicating  thoughts ;  for  it  is  that  to  every 
savage ;  something  must  exist  in  it,  which  may  be  regarded 
as  the  common  property  of  the  nation,  because  it  is  precious 
and  dear  to  them ;  the  works  of  poets,  and  next  to  them,  of 
prose  writers,  which  are  admired,  listened  to,  and  read  by 
all.  It  is  such  productions  which  make  a  language  pecu- 
liarly valuable  to  a  nation.  The  national  spirit  and  manner 
of  thinking  and  feeling,  are  expressed  in  them  ;  the  nation 
beholds  in  them  its  own  portrait ;  and  sees  the  continuance 
of  its  spirit  among  future  generations  secured.  They  form 
not  only  its  common  property,  in  which,  according  to  the 
fullest  meaning  of  the  phrase,  each  tribe  has  its  undisputed 
share  ;  they  form  its  most  sublime,  its  noblest,  its  least 
perishable  property.*^  In  what  a  light,  therefore,  do  Homer 
and  those  who  trod  in  his  footsteps  appear,  when  they  are 
considered  from  this  point  of  view.  Their  poems,  listened  to 
and  admired  by  all  who  used  the  Greek  language,  reminded 
the  inhabitants  of  Hellas,  of  Ionia,  and  of  Sicily,  in  the 
liveliest  manner,  that  they  were  brothers.  When  we  con- 
sider the  long  series  of  ages,  during  which  the  poems  of 
Homer  and  the  Homeridae  were  the  only  common  possession 
of  the  Hellenes,  it  may  even  be  made  a  question,  whether 
without  them  they  would  have  remained  a  nation.^  National 
poetry  was  therefore  the  bond,  which  held  them  together ; 
but  this  bond  was  strengthened  by  another,  by  that  of 
rehgion. 

Unlike  the  religions  of  the  East,  the  religion  of  the 
Hellenes  was  supported  by  no  sacred  books,  was  connected 
with  no  peculiar  doctrines;  it  could  not  therefore  serve,  like 
the  former,  to  unite  a  nation  by  means  of  a  common  re- 
ligious creed  ;  but  it  was  fitted  for  gaining  that  end,  in  so 

'  Bap/3ap60wvoi.     II.  ii.  867- 

'  See  Heeren's  Essay  on  the  means  of  preserving  the  nationality  of  a  con- 
quered people.     Historische  Werke,  B.  ii.  1.  1,  etc. 

'  And  how  would  the  Greeks  constitute  a  nation  but  for  their  poetry  and 
literature  ? 


* 

i 


fr.-s 


8^ 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.    VII. 


far  as  the  external  rites  of  religion  afforded  opportunities. 
But  as  the  nation  had  no  caste  of  priests,  nor  even  a  united 
order  of  priesthood,  it  naturally  followed,  that  though  indi- 
vidual temples  could  in  a  certain  degree  become  national 
temples,  this  must  depend,  for  the  most  part,  on  accidental 
circumstances ;  and  where  every  thing  was  voluntary,  no- 
thing could  be  settled  by  established  forms  like  those  which 
prevailed  in  other  countries.  The  temples  at  Olympia, 
Delos,  and  Delphi,  may  justly  be  denominated  national 
temples,  although  not  in  the  same  sense  in  which  we  call 
those  of  the  Jews  and  the  Egyptians  national ;  but  their  ef- 
fects were  perhaps  only  more  considerable  and  more  secure, 
because  every  thing  connected  with  them  was  voluntary. 
The  fruits  of  civilization  came  forth,  and  were  matured,  un- 
der the  protection  of  these  sanctuaries  also ;  though  not  m 
the  same  manner  as  in  Egypt  and  Ethiopia;*  and  when  we 
hear  of  national  festivals,^  oracles,  and  Amphictyonic  assem- 
blies, other  ideas  are  connected  with  them,  than  were 
awakened  by  the  temples  in  the  countries  just  named.  But 
let  it  not  be  forgotten,  that  all  these  fruits,  of  which  we  must 
make  mention  separately,  ripened  on  one  and  the  same 
branch ;  that  they,  therefore,  closely  united,  could  ripen 
only  together;  that  by  this  very  means  they  gained  a  higher 
value  in  the  eyes  of  the  nation ;  and  that  this  value  must  be 
estimated  by  their  influence,  rather  than  by  what  they  were 
in  themselves. 

We  shall  hardly  be  mistaken,  if  we  consider  those  sanc- 
tuaries the  most  ancient,  which  were  celebrated  for  their 
oracles.  Those  of  Dodona  and  Delphi  were  declared  to  be 
so  by  the  voice  of  the  nation  ;  and  both  of  them,  especially 
that  of  Delphi,  were  so  far  superior  to  the  rest,  that  they  are 
in  some  measure  to  be  esteemed  as  the  only  national  oracles.' 

*  Heeren.  Ideen.  etc.     Th.  ii.  487,  etc. 

*  The  Greek  word  for  them,  is  TravrjyvpEig. 

*  The  number  of  Grecian  oracles,  constantly  increasing,  became,  as  is  well 
known,  exceedingly  numerous.  With  the  exception  of  that  of  Dodona,  which 
was  of  Egyptio-Pelasgic  origin,  the  oracles  of  the  Greeks  were  almost  exclu- 
sively connected  with  the  worship  of  Apollo.  We  know  of  more  than  fifty  of 
his  oracles  (see  Bulenger  de  oraculis  et  vatibus,  in  Thes.  Ant.  Gr.  vol.  vii.) ; 
of  the  few  others,  the  more  celebrated  owed  their  origin  to  the  same  god,  as 
those  of  Mopsus  and  Trophonius,  to  whom  he  had  imparted  the  gift  of  pro- 
phesying. How  much  of  the  rites  of  religion  among  tne  Hellenes  depended 
on  the  religion  of  Apollo.  New  Hght  is  shed  on  this  subject  by  C.  O.  M tiller, 
in  his  volume  on  the  Dorians,  i.  199. 


PRESERVATION  OF  THE  NATIONAL  CHARACTER. 


83 


Olympia,  it  is  true,  had  originally  an  oracle  also ;  ^  but  from 
unknown  causes,  it  became  hushed,  probably  just  after  the 
distinguished  success  of  the  oracles  of  Apollo.    We  leave  to 
others  all  further  investigation  of  these  institutions;    the 
question  which  claims  our  attention,  is,  how  far  they  contri- 
buted to  preserve  the  spirit  and  the  union  of  the  nation. 
They  did  not  effect  this  by  being  regarded  as  intended  only 
for  the  Hellenes.    Foreigners  also  were  permitted  to  consult 
the  oracles ;  and  to  recompense  the  answers  which  they  re- 
ceived by  consecrated  presents.    But  this  took  place  only  in 
individual  cases ;  and  was  done  probably  by  none  but  rulers 
and  kings,  from  the  time  when  Alyattes  first  made  applica- 
tion at  Delphi.^    In  other  cases,  the  difference  of  language 
was  alone  sufficient  to  keep  foreigners  away,  as  the  Pythian 
priestess  spoke  always  in  Greek.     These  institutions  belong- 
ed, if  not  exclusively,  yet  principally  to  the  Hellenes ;  of 
whom  both  individuals  and  cities  could  always  have  access 
to  them.    They  formed  the  connecting  link  between  politics 
and  the  popular  religion.     Their  great  political  influence, 
especially  m  the  states  of  the  Doric  race,  is  too  well  known 
from  history  to  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  adduce  proofs 
of  It.     That  influence  doubtless  became  less  after  the  Per- 
sian wars.   Whether  this  diminution  of  influence  was  injuri- 
ous or  advantageous  cannot  easily  be  decided.    When  the 
reciprocal  hatred  of  the  Athenians  and  Spartans  excited 
them  to  the  fury  of  civil  war,  how  much  suflfering  would 
have  been  spared  to  Greece,  if  the  voice  of  the  gods  had 
been  able  to  avert  the  storm.     But  the  affairs  of  the  Delphic 
temple  were  still  considered  as  the  concern  of  the  Grecian 
nation ;  and  even  after  infidelity  had  usurped  the  place  of 
the  ancient  superstition,  the  violation  of  the  sanctuary  gave 
the  politicians  a  pretence,  sufficient  to  kindle  a  civil  war, 
which  was  destined  to  cost  Greece  its  liberties. 

Among  the  numerous  festivals  which  the  several  Grecian 
cities  were  accustomed  to  celebrate,  there  were  some,  which, 
from  causes  that  are  no  longer  well  known,  or  were  perhaps 
quite  accidental,  soon  became  really  national.  At  these, 
foreigners  could  be  spectators ;  but  the  Hellenes  alone  were 
permitted  to  contend  for  the  prizes.  The  right  to  do  so  be- 
longed to  the  inhabitant  of  the  farthest  colony,  as  well  as  of 


« 


*  Strabo,  viii.  p.  542. 


'  Herod,  i.  9. 


G  2 


84 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    VII. 


the  mother  country,  and  was  esteemed  inalienable  and  m- 
valuable.  Even  princes  were  proud  of  the  privilege,  for 
which  the  Persian  king  himself  would  have  sued  m  vain,  of 
sending  their  chariots  to  the  races  of  Olympia.  Every  one 
has  learned  from  the  hymns  of  Pindar,  that  beside  the 
Olympic  contests,  the  Pythian  games  at  De  phi,  the  de- 
mean at  Argos,  and  the  Isthmian  at  Corinth,  belong  to  the 
same  class.  As  to  the  origin  of  these  games  Homer  does 
not  make  mention  of  them,  which  he  would  hardly  have 
nes-lected  to  do,  if  they  had  existed  or  been  famous  m  his 
day  Yet  the  foundation  of  them  was  laid  m  so  remote  a 
period  of  antiquity,  that  it  is  attributed  to  gods  and  heroes. 
Uncertain  as  are  these  traditions,  it  is  remarkable,  that  a 
different  origin  is  attributed  to  each  one  of  them.  Those  of 
Olympia  were  instituted  by  Hercules,  on  his  victorious  re- 
turn, and  were  designed  as  contests  in  bodily  strength ; 
those  of  Delphi  were  in  their  origin  nothing  but  musical 
exercises ;  although  others  were  afterwards  added  to  them. 
Those  of  Nemea  were  originally  funeral  games  ;  respecting 
the  occasion  of  instituting  those  of  the  Isthmus,  there  are 

different  accounts.^ 

But  whatever  may  have  been  the  origin  of  the  games, 
they  became  national  ones.  This  did  not  certainly  take 
place  at  once ;  and  we  should  err,  if  we  should  apply  the 
accounts  given  us  of  the  Olympic  games  in  the  flourishing 
periods  of  Greece,  to  the  earlier  ages.  On  the  contrary, 
from  the  accurate  registers  which  were  kept  by  the  judges, 
we  learn  most  distinctly,  with  respect  to  these  games,  that 
they  gained  their  importance  and  character  by  degrees.^ 
They  have  not  forgotten  to  mention,  when  the  different 
kinds  of  contests  (for  at  first  there  were  none  but  in  racing) 
were  permitted  and  adopted.  But  still  these  games  gained 
importance,  although  it  was  only  by  degrees  ;  and  the  time 
came,  when  they  merited  to  be  celebrated  by  a  Pindar. 

In  this  manner,  therefore,  these  festivals,  and  the  games 
connected  with  them,  received  a  national  character.  They 
were  peculiar  to  the  Grecians ;  and  on  that  account  also 

'  All  the  passages  on  the  origin  and  the  arrangements  of  the  games,  may 
be  found  collected  in  Schmidtii  Prolegomenis  ad  Pindarum  ;  Potter's  Archae- 
ologia ;  and  Corsini  Dissertationes  agonisticas ;  and  others. 

*  See  Pausanias  in  Eliacis,  1.  v.  9. 


PRESERVATION  OF  THE  NATIONAL  CHARACTER. 


85 


were  of  great  utility.  "  Those  are  justly  praised,"  Isocrates^ 
very  happily  observes,  "  who  instituted  these  famous  assem- 
blies, and  thus  made  it  customary  for  us  to  come  together 
as  allies,  having  set  aside  our  hostilities ;  to  increase  our 
friendship  by  recalling  our  relationship  in  our  common 
vows  and  sacrifices;  to  renew  our  ancient  family  friend- 
ships, and  to  form  new  ones.  They  have  provided,  that  nei- 
ther the  unpolished  nor  the  well  educated  should  leave  the 
games  without  profit ;  but  that  in  this  assembly  of  the  Hel- 
lenes in  one  place,  some  may  display  their  wealth,  and 
others  observe  the  contests,  and  none  be  present  without  a 
purpose,  but  each  have  something  of  which  to  boast ;  the 
one  part,  while  they  see  those  engaged  in  the  contests  mak- 
ing exertions  on  their  account ;  the  other,  when  they  con- 
sider that  all  this  concourse  of  people  has  assembled  to  be 
spectators  of  their  contests." 

The  accounts  which  we  read  of  the  splendour  of  these 
games,  especially  of  the  Olympic,  where  the  nation  of  the 
Hellenes  appeared  in  its  glory,  give  a  high  idea  of  them. 
And  yet  it  was  public  opinion,  far  more  than  the  reality, 
which  gave  to  the  crown  of  victory  its  value.  The  glory  of 
being  conqueror  in  them,  was  the  highest  with  which  the 
Grecian  was  acquainted;  it  conferred  honour,  not  only  on  him 
who  won  the  palm,  but  on  his  family  and  on  his  native  city. 
He  was  not  honoured  in  Olympia  alone  ;  his  victory  was  the 
victory  of  his  native  place ;  here  he  was  solemnly  received ; 
new  festivals  were  instituted  on  his  account ;  he  had  after- 
wards a  right  of  living  at  the  public  charge  in  the  prytanea. 
A  victory  at  Olympia,  says  Cicero  with  truth,'^  rendered 
the  victor  illustrious,  no  less  than  his  consulate  the  Roman 
consul.  The  tournaments  of  the  middle  age  were  something 
similar  ;  or  might  have  become  something  similar,  if  the  re- 
lations of  society  had  not  prevented.  But  as  a  distinct  line 
of  division  was  drawn  between  the  classes,  they  became  in- 
teresting to  but  one  class.  Birth  decided  who  could  take  a 
part  in  them,  and  who  were  excluded.  There  was  nothing 
of  that  among  the  Hellenes.  The  lowest  of  the  people  could 
join  at  Olympia  in  the  contest  for  the  branch  of  the  sacred 
olive  tree,  as  well  as  Alcibiades,  or  even  the  ruler  of  Syra- 
cuse with  all  the  splendour  of  his  equipage. 

'  Isocrates.  Panegyr.  Op.  p.  49,  Steph.  »  Cicero.  Quaest.  Tusc.  ii.  17. 


86 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  \n. 


The  influence  on  the  pohtical  relations  of  the  Grecian 
states,  was  perhaps  not  so  great  as  Isocrates  represents.  A 
solemnity  of  a  few  days  could  hardly  be  sufficient  to  cool 
the  passions  and  still  the  mutual  enmities  of  the  several 
tribes.  History  mentions  no  peace,  which  was  ever  negoti- 
ated, and  still  less  which  was  ever  concluded  at  Olympia. 
But  so  much  the  greater  was  the  influence  exercised  over 
the  culture  of  the  nation  ;  and  if  the  culture  of  a  nation  de- 
cides its  character,  our  plan  requires  of  us  to  pause  and 
consider  it. 

In  all  their  institutions,  when  they  are  considered  in  the 
light  in  which  the  Greeks  regarded  them,  we  shall  com- 
monly find  proofs  of  the  noble  dispositions  of  the  Hellenes. 
And  these  are  to  be  observed  in  the  games,  where  every 
thing  which  was  in  itself  beautiful  and  glorious ;  bodily 
strength  and  skill  in  boxing ;  wrestling,  and  running ;  the 
splendour  of  opulence,  as  displayed  in  the  equipages  for  the 
chariot  races ;  excellence  in  poetry,  and  soon  also  in  other 
intellectual  productions,  were  here  rewarded,  each  with  its 
prize.  But  the  degree  of  importance  assigned  to  the  pro- 
ductions of  mind  was  not  every  where  the  same.  Musical 
contests,^  in  which  the  Greeks  united  poetry,  song,  and 
music,  were  common  in  those  larger  games,  as  well  as  in 
those  hardly  less  splendid  ones,  which  were  instituted  in  the 
several  cities.  But  there  was  a  diflerence  in  their  relative 
importance.  At  Olympia,  though  they  were  not  entirely  ex- 
cluded, they  were  yet  less  essential ;  ^  they  formed  from  the 
beginning  the'primary  object  in  the  Pythian  games.  They 
held  the  same  rank  in  several  festivals  of  the  smaller  cities, 
in  the  Panathenaea  at  Athens,   in   Delos,^    at  Epidaurus, 

'  The  Greeks  made  a  distinction  between  dy6veg  yvftviKoi  and  uovatKoi  The 
former  relate  to  the  exercises  of  the  body ;  the  latter,  to  the  works  of  genius  ; 
that  IS,  to  poetry,  and  whatever  was  connected  with  it.  At  these  festivals  it 
never  entered  the  mmd  of  the  Greeks  to  institute  prizes  for  competitors  in 
the  arts  of  design ;  at  least  not  in  the  plastic  art.  (Pliny,  however,  mentions 
a  competition  of  painters,  xxxv.  35.)  The  cause  of  this  may  in  part  be,  that 
those  arts  were  not  so  soon  brought  to  perfection  as  the  former  ones  :  but  the 
cause  was  rather  that  the  Greeks  conceived  it  proper  to  institute  competition 

u^lVu  ?^^' P^  "^^'""^  ^^^  ^^s^^^s  were  temporary;  and  not  in  those,  of 
which  the  productions  are  exhibited  in  pubUc,  and  are  lasting;  for  in  them, 
as  in  sculpture  for  example,  there  is  a  constant  exhibition,  and  therefore  a 
constant  emulation. 

^  See  the  instructive  Versuch  von  den  musicalischen  Wettstreiten  der  Alten, 
which  is  to  be  found  m  der  neuen  Bibl.  der  Schonen  Wissenschaften,  B.  vii. 
The  musical  contests  in  Delos,  with  which  gymnastic  exercises  soon  came 


PRESERVATION  OF  THE  NATIONAL  CHARACTER. 


87 


Ephesus,  and  other  places.  But  even  where  no  actual  com- 
petition  took  place,  every  one  who  felt  possessed  of  suffi- 
cient talents,  was  permitted  to  come  forward  with  the 
productions  of  art.  The  rhapsodist  and  the  performer  on 
the  flute,  the  lyric  poet,  the  historian,  and  the  orator,  had 
each  his  place.  The  hymns  of  Pindar  were  chanted  in 
honour  of  the  victors,  not  in  emulation  of  others ;  and 
Herodotus  had  no  rival  when  he  read  the  books  of  his  his- 
tory at  Olympia.  The  Hellenes  made  room  for  every  thing 
which  was  glorious  and  beautiful,  and  it  was  especially  at 
Olympia  and  Delphi,  that  the  observer  of  the  character  of 
the  Greeks  could  justly  break  forth  in  exclamations  of  ad- 
miring astonishment. 

The  Amphictyonic  assemblies,  as  they  were  called  by  the 
Grecians,  appear  to  have  exercised  a  still  greater  influence 
on  political  union.^  Under  that  name  the  assemblies  are 
signified,  that  were  held  in  some  common  temple  by  several 
tribes  which  occupied  the  territory  round  it,  or  by  neigh- 
bouring cities,  in  order  to  consult  on  the  affairs  connected 
with  the  sanctuary,  and  on  others  of  a  more  general  nature. 
It  was  therefore  characteristic  of  these  assemblies,  first,  that 
a  temple  or  sanctuary  formed  their  central  point ;  further, 
that  several  tribes  or  cities  participated  in  them ;  thirdly, 
that  assemblies  of  the  people,  festivals,  and,  of  course, 
games  were  connected  with  them;  and  fourthly,  that  be- 
sides these  popular  assemblies  and  festivals,  deputies  under 
various  names,  (Theori,  Pylagorae,)  were  sent  by  the  several 
states  which  participated  in  them,  to  deliberate  on  subjects 
of  common  interest.  We  shall  be  able  to  see  these  institu- 
tions in  their  true  light,  after  taking  a  view  of  the  origin  of 

temples  in  Greece. 

As  soon  as  the  manners  of  cities  were  distinctly  formed 
with  the  Greeks,  and  the  individual  cities  in  the  mother 
country,  no  less  than  in  the  colonies,  had  for  the  most  part 

to  be  connected,  were  the  most  ancient  Ionic  national  games ;  as  Thucydides, 
iii.  104,  has  already  proved  from  the  Homeric  hymn  to  Apollo.  They  were 
originally  connected  with  the  service  of  that  god,  and  were  communicated 
with  it  by  the  lonians  to  the  Dorians.  Hence  they  were  not  regarded  at 
Olympia,  Nemea,  and  on  the  Isthmus,  as  forming  an  essential  part  of  the 

'  The  Greek  word  is  sometimes  spelt  d^KpiKriovsc,  those  who  dwell  round 
about,  sometimes  dix(piKTioveg,  from  the  hero  Amphictyon,  called  by  tradition 
the  founder  of  the  same. 


88 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  VII. 


become  rich  by  means  of  commerce  and  industry  in  the 
arts,  temples  were  built  by  single  towns.  Beside  this,  as  we 
shall  show  more  fully  in  another  place,  the  luxury  of  the 
public  was  connected  almost  exclusively  with  these  temples, 
and  they  were  to  serve  as  the  measure  of  the  splendour  and 
wealth  of  the  respective  cities.  The  building  of  temples, 
therefore,  became,  especially  after  the  Persian  wars,  and 
even  a  century  before  them,  a  matter,  in  which  the  honour 
of  the  cities  was  concerned,  and  their  public  spirit  was  ex- 
hibited. In  this  manner  that  multitude  of  temples  arose 
which  still  present,  in  their  numerous  ruins,  master-pieces 
of  architecture.  But  it  was  not  and  could  not  have  been  so 
in  the  earliest  times.  The  building  of  a  temple  was  then 
commonly  a  joint  undertaking ;  partly  because  these  tem- 
ples, however  they  may  have  been  inferior  to  the  later  ones,^ 
were  still  too  costly  to  be  erected  by  the  separate  commu- 
nities ;  and  partly  and  chiefly  because  such  common  sanctu- 
aries were  needed  for  celebrating  the  common  festivals  of 
each  tribe. 

Such  a  sanctuary  formed  in  some  measure  a  point  of 
union.  It  was  an  object  of  common  care  ;  it  became  ne- 
cessary to  watch  over  the  temple  itself,  its  estates,  and  its 
possessions ;  and  as  this  could  not  be  done  by  the  several 
communities  at  large,  what  was  more  natural,  than  to  depute 
envoys  for  the  purpose  ?  But  in  a  nation  where  every  thing 
was  freely  developed,  and  so  little  was  fixed  by  established 
forms,  It  could  not  but  happen,  that  other  affairs  of  general 
mterest  should  occasionally  be  discussed ;  either  at  the  po- 
pular festivals,  or  in  the  assemblies  of  the  delegates ;  and 
that  is  the  most  probable,  as  the  allies  considered  themselves, 
tor  the  niost  part,  as  branches  of  the  same  nation.  They 
became  therefore  the  points  of  political  union ;  the  idea  of 
a  tormal  alliance  was  not  yet  connected  with  them,  but 
might  be  expected  from  their  maturity. 

We  find  traces  of  such  Amphictyonic  assemblies  in  Greece 
Itself,  and  m  the  colonies.^    Their  origin,  especially  in  the 

sivef;Uu\\  Dd^^^^^^^    "  P-  ''''  '^y'  ''  '^^  temples,  which  were  succes- 
J  A  catalogue  of  them,  which  might  perhaps  be  enlarged  has  been  ^ven  bv 

fuTh  af  rmDhlt^^^^^^  r°^??/  T^^t  ^^'  b^^^  «^id  above.  There  ^as 

bucn  an  Amphictyonia  in  Boeotia,  at  Orchestus,  in  a  temple  of  Neptune ;  in 


PRESERVATION  OF  THE  NATIONAL  CHARACTER. 


89 


mother  country,  is  very  ancient ;  and  we  may  in  most  cases 
assert,  and  with  justice,  that  it  belongs  to  the  period,  when 
the  republican  forms  of  government  were  not  yet  introduced, 
and  the  constitutions  of  the  tribes  were  in  vigour.  For  we 
find  that  those  who  shared  in  them,  were  much  more  fre- 
quently influenced  to  assemble  by  tribes  than  by  cities. 
And  this  affords  an  obvious  reason,  why  they  lost  their  in- 
fluence as  the  nation  advanced  in  culture,  except  where  pe- 
culiar causes  operated  to  preserve  them.  In  the  flourishing 
period  of  Greece,  most  of  them  had  become  mere  antiqui- 
ties, which  were  only  occasionally  mentioned  ;  or,  if  they 
continued  in  the  popular  festivals  which  were  connected 
with  them,  (and  popular  festivals  are  always  longest  pre- 
served,) they  were  but  bodies  without  soul.  This  result 
was  a  necessary  one,  since,  on  the  downfal  of  the  constitu- 
tions of  the  tribes,  the  whole  political  life  of  the  nation  was 
connected  with  the  cities,  the  spirit  of  the  tribes  had  become 
annihilated  by  the  spirit  of  the  cities,  and  each  of  the  cities 
had  erected  its  own  temples. 

Yet  of  these  Amphictyonic  councils,  one  rose  to  a  higher 
degree  of  importance,  and  always  preserved  a  certain  mea- 
sure of  dignity  ;  so  that  it  was  called,  by  way  of  eminence, 
the  Amphictyonic  council.  This  was  the  one  held  at  Delphi 
and  ThermopylaB.^  When  we  bear  in  mind  the  ideas  which 
have  just  been  illustrated,  we  shall  hardly  be  led  to  expect, 
that  the  nation,  in  its  whole  extent, would  ever  have  been  unit- 
ed by  any  common  bond ;  and  still  less  that  this  bond  should 
have  been  more  closely  drawn  with  the  progress  of  time, 
and  finally  have  united  all  the  Grecian  states  in  one  political 

Attica,  in  a  temple,  of  which  the  name  is  not  mentioned;  at  Corinth,  on  the 
isthmus,  in  the  temple  of  Neptune ;  in  the  island  Caluria,  near  Argolis,  also  in 
a  temple  of  Neptune;  another  in  Argolis,  in  the  celebrated  temple  of  Juno 
(HpKiov) ;  in  Elis,  in  a  temple  of  Neptune;  also  on  the  Grecian  islands;  in 
Jj-uboea,  m  the  temple  of  Diana  Amaurusia ;  in  Delos,  in  the  temple  of  Apollo, 
n  fK  ^^^"^'  of  which  we  have  already  made  mention,  and  which  served  for 
^J^^^?^  neighbouring  islands  ;  in  Asia,  the  Panionium  at  Mycale,  afterwards 
at  i^phesus,  for  the  lonians  ;  the  temple  of  Apollo  Triopius  for  the  Dorians ; 
lor  the  ^olians,  the  temple  of  Apollo  Grynaeus.  Even  the  neighbouring 
Asiatic  tnbes,  the  Carians  and  the  Lycians,  had  similar  institutions,  either 
pecuhar,  or  adopted  of  the  Greeks.  The  proofs  of  these  accounts  may  be 
lound  collected  in  the  above  mentioned  author. 

According  to  Strabo,  ix.  p.  289,  it  does  not  appear  that  the  assembly  was 
aith  ^^^^^^^^y  at  Delphi  and  Thermopylae ;  but  the  deputies  first  came  to- 
geiner  at  rhermopylee  to  sacrifice  to  Ceres  ;  and  then  proceeded  to  Delphi, 
vvnere  business  was  transacted. 


90 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  VII. 


body.    But  this  Amphictyonic  assembly  contributed  much 
to  the  preserving  of  national  feeling  and  national  unity,  and 
as  such  deserves  to  be  considered  by  us  with  more  at- 
tention. .,..-.         •  -11 
Strabo  concedes,'  that  even  m  his  time  it  was  impossible 

to  ascertain  the  origin  of  the  Amphictyonic  assembly  ;  this 
however  was  certain,  that  it  belonged  to  remote  antiquity. 
We  must  here  remark,  that  Homer  does  not  make  any  men- 
tion of  it;  and  yet  Homer  speaks  of  the  wealthy  Delphi ; ^ 
and  although  his  silence  affords  no  proof  that  it  did  not 
exist,  we  may  at  least  infer,  that  the  council  was  not  then  so 
important  as  at  a  later  day.  The  causes  which  made  this 
Amphictyonia  so  much  superior  to  all  the  rest,  are  not  ex- 
pressly given ;  but  should  we  err,  if  we  were  to  look  for 
them  in  the  ever-increasing  dignity  and  influence  of  the 
Delphic  oracle  ?  When  we  call  to  mind  the  great  import- 
ance attached  to  the  liberty  of  consulting  this  oracle, 
scarcely  a  doubt  on  the  subject  can  remain.  The  states 
which  were  members  of  this  Amphictyonia,  had  no  exclu- 
sive right  to  that  privilege ;  but  had  the  care  of  the  tem- 
ple, and  therefore  of  the  oracle,  in  their  hands.^  No  ancient 
writer  has  preserved  for  us  so  accurate  an  account  of  the 
regulations  of  that  institution,  that  all  important  questions 
respecting  them  can  be  answered  ;  and  those  who  speak  of 
them  do  not  agree  with  each  other.  But  from  a  comparison 
of  their  statements,  we  may  infer,  that  though  this  Amphic- 
tyonia did  not  by  any  means  embrace  the  whole  of  the 
Hellenes,  yet  the  most  considerable  states  of  the  mother 
country  and  of  Asia  Minor  took  part  in  it.  According  to 
iEschines,*  there  were  twelve  of  them  (although  he  enume- 
rates but  eleven)  ;  Thessalians,  Boeotians,  (not  the  Thebans 
only,  he  expressly  remarks,)  Dorians,  lonians,  Perrhsebians, 

*  Strabo,  1.  c.  The  special  inquiries  on  this  subject  may  be  found  discuss- 
ed in  the  prize  Essay  of  Tittman,  on  the  Amphictyonic  League.   Beriin,  1812. 

2  II.  ix.  404,  405.     Homer  calls  it  Pytho. 

*  Individual  states  obtained  the  right  of  being  the  first  to  consult  the  ora- 
cle, irpofiavTiia,  and  this  right  was  valued  very  highly. 

*  ^schines  de  Faisal  Legatione,  iii.  p.  285,  ed.  Reisk.  This  is  the  most  im- 
portant passage.  St.  Croix,  p.  27,  has  compared  the  discrepant  accounts  of 
tausanias,  x.  p.  815,  and  Harpocration,  v.  A/i^tJcrvovfc.  The  authority  of 
^schines  respecting  his  own  times,  seems  to  me  of  more  weight  than  all  the 
others,  and  therefore  I  follow  him  alone.  No  man  had  better  means  of  in- 
formation than  he.  But  many  changes  in  the  regulations  were  subsequently 
made  by  the  Macedonians  and  the  Romans. 


PRESERVATION  OP  THE  NATIONAL  CHARACTER.  91 

Magnesians,  Phthiotians,  Maleans/  Phocians,  (Etaeans  Lo- 
crians ;  the  twelfth  state  was  probably  the  Dolopians.* 
Every  city  belonging  to  these  tribes,  had  the  right  of  send- 
ing deputies;  the  smallest  had  an  equal  right  with  the 
largest ;  and  the  votes  of  all  were  equal ;  of  the  lonians 
says  ^schines,  the  deputies  from  Eretria  in  Euboea  and 
from  Priene  m  Asia  Minor,'  were  equal  to  those  from 
Athens ;  of  the  Dorians,  those  from  Dorium  in  Laconia,  and 
from  Oytinium  on  Parnassus,  had  as  much  weight  as  those 
from  Lacedasmon.  But  the  votes  were  not  counted  by 
cities,  but  by  tribes ;  each  tribe  had  two  votes,  and  the 
majority  decided.* 

And  how  large  was  the  sphere  of  action,  in  which  this 
assembly  was  accustomed  to  exert  its  influence  ?  Its  first 
duty  was  to  take  charge  of  the  temple  ;  its  property  •  its 
presents,  the  offerings  of  piety ;  its  sanctity.  From  this  it 
naturally  follows,  that  the  assembly  possessed  judiciary  pow- 
ers. Persons  who  had  committed  sacrilege  on  the  temple 
were  summoned  before  its  tribunal,  where  judgment  was 
passed  and  the  acts  of  penance  and  punishment  decreed.* 
liut  to  these,  political  objects  were  added  at  a  very  early 
period ;  such  as  the  preservation  of  peace  among  the  con- 
iederates,  and  the  accommodating  of  contentions,  which 
had  arisen  We  have,  it  is  true,  no  proof,  that  those  who 
participated  in  the  assembly  considered  themselves  as  nearly 
alhed  to  each  other ;  but  it  is  as  little  doubtful,  that  under 
the  protection  of  this  sanctuary,  certain  ideas  arose  and  were 
dittused,  which  might  be  considered  as  forming,  in  some 

tin  Juh  ^Tl  '*^'  r""®  ^"  I"  Thessaly.     The  reason  of  their  being  thus  dis- 
prif.W  whi^.h'^"  I'l  °^  *'  Thessalians  is  probably  to  be  fofnd?n  the 
Ses^hri^  ?^V'^  ^^^  preserved,  of  a  separate  vote.   Herodotus,  vii.  132, 
uiviues  tnem  in  the  same  manner. 
;  Heeren,  p.  39. 

pated  fn'thl"'''"'^  ""T^'"'  ^^^^  the  individual  colonies  in  Asia  Minor  partici- 
Sric  CO  oni«  Ti*'^;,  7'  "^'S*''  '"Sg^e'  *"  l"*^"""'  whether  all  the 

*  For  an  fS  *  t  "'''f'?"  """i^r'  '",  "'''«'■  '•«g'°n^'  did  the  same. 
Phictvont  T    ^  knowledge  which  we  have  of  the  regulations  of  the  Am- 

eS  dtv  ,p'T"i'  "^^^^  '^i"^^^^  '°  ^''^^'  '''■  P-  289-  According  to  him 
VVearetnn"!?  I-T'^i  These  assembled  twice  a  year,  at  the  equinoxes, 
defini  e  tfme  t".«°fi  ^%''"i*  °^  *'  '"'''""^  °^  *^  assembly,  whether  any 
them  ^^^^  '"'^  *^"'  ""^  ""'i  ^"d  of  many  other  things  respecting 

war^lnd  iftf^"!?  ^^^'''■^*-  the  Phocians  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  sacred 
u'  wo  of  ttej      ^^^/"''  the  Locr^ans.     Demosthenis  has  preserved  for 

the  forms  n  whf^r'  ^'"^""'"'IPP-  '•  P-  278.  Reisk.    From  them  we  learn 
iuims  in  wnich  they  were  written. 


92 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   VII. 


measure,  the  foundation  of  a  system  of  national  law  al- 
though it  was  never  brought  to  maturity.  Of  this  we  have 
indisputable  proof  in  the  ancient  oaths,  which  were  taken 
by  all  the  members  of  the  assembly,  and  which  have  been 
preserved  by  ^schines.^  "  I  read,"  says  the  orator,  "  m  the 
assembly  the  oaths,  to  which  the  heaviest  imprecations  were 
attached ;  and  by  which  our  ancestors '  were  obliged  to 
promise  never  to  destroy  any  one  of  the  Amphictyonic  cities,' 
nor  to  cut  off  their  streams,*  whether  in  war  or  in  peace ; 
should  any  city  dare,  notwithstanding,  to  do  so,  to  take  up 
arms  against  it  and  lay  it  waste  ;  and  if  any  one  should  sin 
ao-ainst  the  god,  or  form  any  scheme  against  the  sanctuary, 
to  oppose  him  with  hand  and  foot,  and  word  and  deed." 
This  form  of  oath,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  was  very  ancient, 
and  expresses  with  sufficient  clearness  the  original  objects 
of  the  confederation.  But  it  shows  equally  distinctly,  that 
the  attainment  of  these  ends  depended  much  more  on  the 
circumstances  and  condition  of  the  age,  than  on  the  mem- 
bers of  the  council  themselves. 

To  him  who  measures  the  value  of  this  assembly  only  by 
the  influence  which  it  had  in  preventing  wars  among  the 
tribes  that  took  part  in  it,  its  utility  may  seem  very  doubt- 
ful ;  as  history  has  preserved  no  proofs  of  such  influence. 
But  even  if  it  had  existed  in  the  earliest  ages,  it  must  have 
ceased  of  itself,  when  individual  states  of  Greece  became  so 
powerful,  as  to  assume  a  supremacy  over  the  rest.  Sparta 
and  Athens  referred  the  decision  of  their  quarrels  to  Delphi, 
as  little  as  Prussia  and  Austria  to  Ratisbon.  But  it  would 
be  wrong  to  impute  the  blame  of  this  to  the  members  of  the 
council.  They  had  no  strong  arm,  except  when  the  god 
extended  his  to  protect  them ;  or  some  other  power  took 
arms  in  their  behalf.  But  it  is  a  high  degree  of  merit  to 
preserve  principles  in  the  memory  of  the  nations,  even 
when  it  is  impossible  to  prevent  their  violation.  And  when 
we  observe  that  several  ideas  relating  to  the  law  of  nations, 
were  indelibly  imprinted  on  the  character  of  the  Greeks ;  n 
in  the  midst  of  all  their  civil  wars,  they  never  laid  waste 
any  Grecian  city,  even  when  it  was  subdued ;  ought  we  not 

»  ^schines,  1.  c.  p.  284.  '  oUpxaiot.      ,       ,-,„„*- 

'  Avaararov  iroirjffat,  to  render  uninhabitable,  by  removing  its  inhabitanis. 
*  By  means  of  which  they  would  have  become  uninhabitable. 


THE  PERSIAN  WARS  AND  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES. 


93 


attribute  this  in  some  measure  to  the  Amphictyonic  assem- 
bly ?  They  had  it  not  in  their  power  to  preserve  peace  ;  but 
they  contributed  to  prevent  the  Grecians  from  forgetting, 
even  in  war,  that  they  still  were  Grecians. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  PERSIAN  WARS  AND  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES. 

Since  the  Trojan  war,  no  opportunity  had  been  presented 
to  the  Greek  nation,  of  acting  as  one  people  in  any  equal 
and  common  undertaking.  The  institutions  which  we  have 
just  described,  preserved,  in  a  certain  degree,  the  national 
spirit;  but  they  were  by  no  means  sufficient  to  produce 
political  union ;  any  tendency  to  which  was  counteracted  by 
the  whole  condition  and  internal  relations  of  the  nation. 
Even  the  colonies  were  unfavourable  to  it ;  not  only  by  their 
distance,  but  still  more  by  the  independence  which  they 
enjoyed.  In  our  days,  how  soon  do  colonies  which  become 
independent,  grow  estranged  from  the  mother  countries, 
after  having  long  stood  in  the  closest  connexion  with  her. 

In  the  century  which  preceded  the  Persian  war,^  the 
Grecian  states,  excepting  the  Asiatic  cities,  which  languished 
under  the  Persian  yoke,  had  in  many  respects  made  advances 
in  culture.  Freedom  had  been  triumphantly  established 
m  almost  every  part '  of  the  mother  country.  The  tyrants 
who  had  usurped  power  in  the  cities,  had  been  overthrown 
m  part  by  the  Spartans,  in  part  by  the  citizens  themselves ; 
and  popular  governments  had  been  introduced  in  their  stead. 
Above  all,  Athens  had  shaken  off  the  Pisistratidse ;  and  it 
came  off  victorious  from  the  contest  which  it  had  been 
obliged  to  sustain  for  its  liberty.  It  enjoyed  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  its  youthful  energies;  "Athens,"  Herodotus 
says,  «  which  before  was  great,  when  freed  from  its  usurpers 

I  Sf  ^^^^,^  ^he  years  600  and  500  before  the  Christian  era. 
tinnp«?l^^.l^  ^t^.^^  exception,  where  the  government  of  the  Aleuadse  still  con- 
nvked  th.  p  ^^.  '^  was  tottering;  for  which  reason  they,  like  the  Pisistratids, 
mvited  the  Persians  into  Greece.  Herod,  vii.  6.  »  Herod,  v.  66 


94 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  viir. 


became  still  greater."  At  the  expulsion  of  the  Pisistratida^, 
Sparta  had,  for  the  first  time,  undertaken  to  exert  an  in- 
fluence beyond  the  Peloponnesus;  Corinth  also  had,  for 
eighty-four  years,^  been  in  possession  of  freedom ;  and  a 
similar  advantage  had  been  gained  by  several  of  the  less 
powerful  cities,  by  Sicyon "  and  Epidaurus.  The  islands,  no 
less  than  the  continent,  were  in  a  flourishing  condition  ;  their 
independence  stood  at  that  time  in  no  danger  from  the  Per- 
sians or  the  Athenians.  Samos  never  saw  an  age  like  that 
of  Polycrates,  who  trembled  at  his  own  prosperity ;  ^  the 
small  island  of  Naxus  could  muster  eight  thousand  heavy- 
armed  men ;  *  the  inconsiderable  Siphnus,  very  much  en- 
riched by  its  gold  mines,  deemed  it  expedient  to  consult  the 
Pythian  oracle  on  the  duration  of  its  fortunes.*  The  cities 
of  Magna  Graecia,  Tarentum,  Croton,  and  Sybaris,^  had 
attained  the  period  of  their  splendour ;  in  Sicily,  Syracuse, 
although  disturbed  by  internal  dissensions,  was  yet  so  power- 
ful that  Gelon,  its  ruler,  claimed  in  the  Persian  wars  the  chief 
command  of  all  the  Grecian  forces ;  Marseilles  arose  on  the 
shores  of  Gaul ;  Cyrene  was  established  on  the  coast  of 
Libya. 

But  some  grand  object  of  common  interest  still  was  want- 
ing ;  and  as  the  Spartans  were  already  jealous  of  Athens,  it 
was  the  more  to  be  feared,  that  the  consciousness  of  increas- 
ing strength  would  lead  to  nothing  but  the  mutual  ruin  of 
the  cities  in  civil  wars.  The  Persian  wars  supplied  the  object 
which  was  needed.  Although  they  by  no  means  resulted 
in  the  establishment  of  that  general  union  of  the  whole 
nation  of  the  Hellenes,  of  which  a  great  man  had  formed  the 
idea  without  believing  in  the  possibility  of  realizing  it ;  the 
whole  condition  of  Greece  in  succeeding  ages,  its  foreign 
and  for  the  most  part  its  domestic  relations,  were  all  a  con- 
sequence of  them ;  and  we  do  not  say  too  much,  when  we 
assert,  that  the  political  character  of  Greece  was  formed  by 
them. 

There  never  was  any  general  union  of  the  Greeks  against 
the  Persians  ;  but  the  idea  of  such  a  confederation  had  been 

'  The  year  584  before  Christ. 

'  From  about  the  year  600  B.  C.    Epidaurus  at  the  same  time. 

•  Herod,  iii.  72.  *  Herod,  v.  30.  *  Pausan.  Phoc.  p.  628. 

•  Herod,  vi.  127.   Yet  Sybaris  was  destroyed  just  before  the  Persian  wars, 
by  the  Crotoniatae,  in  the  year  510  before  Christ. 


THE  PERSIAN  WARS  AND  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES.  95 

called  up  ;  and  was,  if  not  entirely,  yet  in  a  great  measure, 
carried  into  effect.  What  is  more  arduous,  than  in  times  of 
great  difficulty,  when  every  one  fears  for  himself,  and  is 
chiefly  concerned  for  self-preservation,  to  preserve  amon^  a 
multitude  of  small  states,  that  public  spirit  and  union/in 
which  all  strength  consists.  The  Athenians  were  left  almost 
alone  to  repel  the  first  invasion  of  Darius  Hystaspes:  but 
the  glory  won  at  Marathon  was  not  sufficient  to  awaken 
general  enthusiasm,  when  greater  danger  threatened  from 
the  invasion  of  Xerxes.     All  the  Thessalians,  the  Locrians, 
and  Boeotians,  except  the  cities  of  Thespi^  and  Platen,  sent 
earth  and  water  to  the  Persian  king  at  the  first  call  to  sub- 
mit ;  although  these  tokens  of  subjection  were  attended  bv 
the  curses  of  the  rest  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  vow  that  a  tithe 
ot  their  estates  should  be  devoted  to  the  deity  of  Delphi ' 
Yet  of  the  rest  of  the  Greeks,  who  did  not  favour  Persia 
some  were  wilhng  to  assist  only  on  condition  of  being  ap- 
pointed to  conduct  and  command  the  whole  ;2   others    if 
their  country  could  be  the  first  to  be  protected  ;'  others  sent 
a  squadron,  which  was  ordered  to  wait  till  it  was  certain 
which  side  would  gain  the  victory;^  and  others  pretended 
they  were  held  back  by  the  declarations  of  an  oracle.^    So 
true  IS  the  remark  of  Herodotus,  that,  however  ill  it  micrht 
De  taken   by  others,  he  was  constrained  to  declare,  that 
(.reece  was  indebted  for  its  freedom  to  Athens.^   Athens, 
with  Ihemistocles  for  its  leader,  gave  life  to  the  courage  of 
the  other  states;  induced  them  to  lay  aside  their  quarrels: 
yielded,  where  it  was  duty  to  yield  ;^  and  always  relied  on 

'  Herod,  vii.  132. 

prldtlT/rmr^^^^  ^5  this  condition,  he  promised  to 

much  graLTwas  S    "  Of  f n  th^^'^^'^ '  ^  ^^^x"^  ^^  '^^^"^^«'  ^"^  ^« 
adnr  «  A^  aesirea.      ut  truth,"  answered  the  Lacedsemonian  amba«? 

he  to  hl?Th.Tr'  'k-  t^<=«nda»t  of  Pelops,  would  remonstraTZdly  were 
Gelo?the  Smc„^^^^^^  ^'^  "^'l  ^""^  *e  Spar  Jns  by 

Syraciwe  H^uf  ^    ^   .   '  *^  Athenian  envoy  quickly  replied,  "  King  of 

;  f  hi  SSSa":;  l°roi'vll°TS"  ^'"^'^  ^""^"'^'^^-   H--1-  vii.  172. 
,  ^"^  Cretans ;  Herod,  vii.  169. 

time7of °he  fee\^„l-f,nH^!^  ^^^v^^  'J^J^^T  "^  ^*«"^>  ^"^  «'  '^^  same 
love;  of  ^uf h  » l^      ^  mpartiality  of  Herodotus.  '<  I  must  here,"  says  this 

o«s,  but  vet  th»tTww  ^"  ^''''^'  ''H  "P'T"'  ^l^'^h  to  most  men  is  o£ 
'  As  "a't  rrtembium  rneroS^ST  *'  '™'''  '  "'"  ""'  <=°°'=^^-" 


96 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  viir. 


THE  PERSIAN  WARS  AND  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES. 


97 


its  own  strength,  while  it  seemed  to  expect  safety  from  all. 
Hope  was  not  disappointed  in  the  result;  the  battle  of 
Salamis  gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  spirit  of  the  Greeks; 
and  when  in  the  following  year  ^  the  battle  of  Platese  gave  a 
decision  to  the  contest,  the  greater  part  of  Hellas  was 
assembled  in  the  field  of  battle.^ 

We  would  give  no  description  of  those  glorious  days,  but 
only  of  the  consequences  which  they  had  for  Greece.  In 
the  actions  of  men,  greatness  is  seldom  or  never  quite  un- 
mixed with  meanness ;  and  he  who  investigates  the  actions 
of  those  times  with  care,  will  find  many  and  various  proofs 
of  it.  And  yet  in  the  whole  compass  of  history,  we  can  find 
no  series  of  events,  which  deserve  to  be  compared  with  the 
grand  spectacle  then  exhibited ;  and  with  all  the  exaggera- 
tions of  the  orators  and  poets,  the  feeling  of  pride  with 
which  the  Greek  reflected  on  his  achievements  was  a  just 
one.  A  small  country  had  withstood  the  attack  of  half  a 
continent ;  it  had  not  only  saved  the  most  costly  possessions, 
which  were  endangered,  its  freedom,  its  independence;  it 
felt  itself  strong  enough  to  continue  the  contest,  and  did  not 
lay  aside  its  arras,  till  it  was  permitted  to  prescribe  the  con- 
ditions of  peace. 

The  price  of  that  peace,  was  the  emancipation  of  the 
Greek  colonies  in  Asia  from  Persian  supremacy.  Twenty 
years  before  the  invasion  of  Xerxes,  when  those  cities  had 
attempted  to  throw  oflF  the  Persian  yoke,  the  Athenians  had 
boldly  ventured  to  send  a  squadron  with  troops  to  reinforce 
them ;  and  that  expedition  occasioned  the  burning  of  Sardis, 
which  was  the  capital  of  the  Persian  dominions  in  Asia 
Minor.  ''  These  ships,"  says  Herodotus,^  "  were  the  origin 
of  the  wars  between  the  Hellenes  and  the  barbarians."  This 
interference  was  deeply  resented  by  the  Persians ;  and  their 
resentment  would  have  been  reasonable,  if  they  had  possess- 
ed the  right  of  reducing  free  cities  to  a  state  of  dependence. 
Herodotus  has  given  a  copious  narration  of  the  ill  success 
of  the  revolt,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  Miletus  suffered 
for  it.  Even  in  the  subsequent  expeditions  of  the  Persians 
against  Europe,  the  ruling  idea  was  the  desire  of  taking  re- 
venge on  Athens ;  and  when  Xerxes  reduced  that  city  to 
ashes,  he  may  have  found  in  it  no  small  degree  of  satisfac- 

»  In  the  year  479  B.  C.  ^  Herod,  ix.  28.  '  Herod,  v.  97- 


tion.*  But  when  the  victory  remained  in  the  hands  of  the 
Greeks,  they  continued  with  spirit  a  war,  which  for  them 
was  no  longer  a  dangerous  one  ;  and  if  the  emancipation  of 
their  countrymen  became  from  that  time  nothing  more  than 
an  ostensible  reason,^  it  was  still  a  proof  of  the  reviving  na- 
tional spirit.  When  the  war  after  fifty-one  years  was  termi- 
nated by  the  first  peace  with  the  Persians,^  it  was  done 
under  the  conditions,  that  the  Grecian  cities  in  Asia  should 
be  free ;  that  the  troops  of  the  Persians  should  keep  two 
days'  march  distant  from  them ;  and  that  their  squadron 
should  leave  the  ^gean  sea.*  In  a  similar  manner,  after  a 
long  and  similar  contest,  emancipated  Holland,  in  a  more 
recent  age,  prescribed  the  conditions  of  peace  to  the  ruler 
of  both  the  Indies,  and  blockaded  the  mouths  of  his  rivers, 
while  it  preserved  the  ocean  open  to  itself. 

Thus  the  people  of  Hellas,  by  means  of  this  war,  appeared 
among  the  nations  in  the  splendour  of  victory.  They  were 
now  permitted  to  look  around  in  tranquil  security ;  for  who 
would  venture  to  attack  them.  The  Eastern  world  obeyed 
the  humbled  Persian ;  in  the  North,  the  kingdom  of  Mace- 
donia had  not  yet  begun  its  career  of  conquest ;  and  Italy, 
still  divided  into  small  states,  did  not  as  yet  contain  a  victo- 
rious republic.  The  period  was  therefore  come,  in  which 
Greece  could  unfold  all  its  youthful  vigour ;  poetry  and  the 
fine  arts  put  forth  their  blossoms;  the  philosophic  mind 
contemplates  itself  in  tranquillity ;  and  in  public  spirit,  the 
several  cities  vie  with  each  other  in  generous  competition. 
A  nation  does  not  need  peace  and  tranquillity  to  become 
great ;  but  it  needs  the  consciousness  that  it  is  possessed  of 
strength,  to  gain  peace  and  tranquillity. 

The  Persian  wars  gave  a  character,  not  only  to  the  rela- 
tions of  Greece  with  foreign  countries,  but  also  to  its  inter- 
nal condition ;  and  were  of  hardly  less  importance  to  the 
nation  by  means  of  the  latter,  than  of  the  forn^er.    During 

'  Herod,  viii.  54. 

^  The  Asiatic  Greeks,  however,  during  the  expedition  of  Xerxes,  in  which 
they  were  compelled  to  take  a  part  with  their  ships,  had  entreated  the  Spartans 
and  Athenians  to  free  them.    Herod,  viii.  132. 

'  In  the  year  449  B.  C,  reckoning  from  the  participation  of  the  Persians  in 
the  insurrection  of  the  Asiatic  Greeks,  under  Aristagoras,  in  the  year  500  B.  C. 

*  Plutarch  in  Cimon.  Op.  iii.  p.  202,  quotes  the  decree  of  the  people,  con- 
taining the  conditions.  The  formal  treaty  has  in  later  days  been  questioned. 
•Dahlman's  Historical  Inquiries,  I.  Yet  war  certainly  ceased. 

H 


98 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   VIII. 


that  contest,  the  idea  of  a  supremacy,  or  rj^e^iovU,  as  the 
Greeks  termed  it,  intrusted  to  one  state  over  the  rest,  or 
usurped  by  that  state,  became  current  throughout  Greece. 

Even  before  the  Persian  vrar,  the  idea  had  been  faintly 
expressed;  Sparta  had  alv^ays,  as  the  strongest  of  the  Dorian 
tribes,  asserted  a  sort  of  supremacy  over  the  Peloponnesus ; 
and  had  in  some  measure  deserved  it,  by  banishing  the 
tyrants  from  the  cities  of  that  peninsula.' 

In  the  common  opposition,  made  by  so  many  of  the 
Grecian  cities,  to  the  attack  of  Xerxes,  the  want  of  a  general 
leader  was  felt;  but  according  to  the  Grecian  rules,  this 
command  could  not  so  well  be  committed  to  one  man,  as  to 
one  state.  We  have  already  observed,  that  several  laid  claims 
to  it ;  those  of  Syracuse  were  at  once  rejected  ;  and  Athens 
was  at  once  prudent  and  generous  enough  to  yield.  At  that 
time,  therefore,  the  honour  was  nominally  conferred  on 
Sparta ;  it  was  actually  possessed  by  the  state,  of  which  the 
talents  merited  it ;  and  Sparta  had  no  Themistocles.  But 
Athens  soon  gained  it  nominally  also ;  when  the  haughtiness 
of  Pausanias  exasperated  the  confederates ;  and  Sparta  was 
deprived  by  his  fall  of  the  only  man,  who  in  those  days  could 
have  reflected  any  lustre  upon  the  state.^ 

In  this  manner,  Athens  was  placed  at  the  head  of  a  large 
part  of  Greece,  confederated  against  Persia ;  and  from  this 
moment  its  supremacy  begins  to  have  a  practical  importance 
for  Greece.  The  circumstances  under  which  this  chief 
command  was  conferred  on  Athens,  showed  that  nothing 

»  Thucyd.  i.  18,  76. 

2  Of  this  we  have  accurate  accounts  in  Thucydides,  i.  95.  The  Spartans, 
Athenians,  and  many  of  the  confederates,  had  undertaken  a  naval  expedition 
against  Cyprus  and  Byzantium,  470  years  before  Christ.  Offended  with  Pau- 
sanias, (who  about  this  time  was  recalled  by  Sparta  herself,)  the  allies, 
especially  the  lonians,  entreated  the  Athenians,  as  being  of  a  kindred  tribe, 
to  assume  the  supreme  command.  Those  who  were  of  the  Peloponnesus, 
took  no  part  in  this  act.  The  Athenians  were  very  wiUing  to  comply  with  the 
request;  and  the  confederates  never  received  another  Spartan  general.  From 
this  account,  the  following  points  are  to  be  inferred:  1.  The  Athenians  ob- 
tained the  same  chief  command,  which  had  been  exercised  by  the  Spartans. 
2.  The  states  which  conferred  that  command  on  Athens,  must  have  been  is- 
lands and  maritime  towns,  as  the  whole  expedition  was  a  naval  one.  3.  Al- 
though not  all  who  shared  in  it  were  lonians,  yet  the  relationship  of  tribes 
had  a  great  influence  on  the  choice.  4.  The  command  conferred  on  the 
Athenians,  embraced  therefore  by  no  means  all  the  Grecian  cities,  nor  even 
all  which  had  been  united  against  Persia ;  as  the  Peloponnesians  expressly 
withdrew  from  it,  and  the  other  states  of  the  interior  took  no  part  in  the 
matter. 


THE  PERSIAN   WARS  AND  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES. 


99 


more  was  intended  to  be  given,  than  the  conduct  of  the  war 
that  was  still  to  be  continued  with  united  efforts  against  the 
Persians.  No  government  of  the  allied  states,  no  inter- 
ference in  their  internal  affairs,  was  intended.  But  how 
much  was  included  in  the  conduct  of  a  war  against  a  very- 
powerful  enemy  from  the  very  nature  of  the  office ;  and  how 
much  more  for  them  who  knew  how  to  profit  by  it !  As  long 
as  the  war  against  the  Persian  king  was  continued,  could  it 
be  much  less  than  the  guidance  of  all  external  affairs  ?  For 
in  a  period  like  that,  what  other  relations  could  have  em- 
ployed the  practical  politics  of  the  Greeks.  Or  if  any  others 
existed,  were  they  not  at  least  intimately  connected  with 
that  war?  And  as  for  the  grand  questions  respecting  the 
duration  of  the  war  and  the  conditions  of  peace,  did  they  not 
depend  on  those  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  undertaking  ? 

The  first  use  which  Athens  made  of  this  superior  com- 
mand, was  the  establishment  of  a  general  treasury,  as  well 
as  a  common  fleet,  for  the  carrying  on  of  the  war ;  while  it 
was  fixed,  which  of  the  allies  should  contribute  money  and 
ships,  and  in  what  proportion.  The  Athenians,  says  Thucy- 
dides,^ now  first  established  the  office  of  treasurers^  of 
Greece ;  who  were  to  collect  the  tribute,  as  the  sums  which 
were  raised  were  denominated  (and  names  are  not  matters 
of  indifference  in  politics) ;  the  amount  of  which  was  then 
fixed  at  four  hundred  and  sixty  talents.^  Yet  to  avoid  every 
thing  which  could  seem  odious,  the  treasury  was  not  directly 
fixed  at  Athens,  but  at  Delos,  in  the  temple  of  Apollo; 
where  the  assemblies  also  were  held.  But  the  most  import- 
ant circumstance  was,  that  the  most  just  of  the  Grecians, 
Aristides,  was  appointed  treasurer ;  and  the  office  of  assign- 
ing to  each  state  its  proportion  of  the  general  contribution, 
was  intrusted  to  him.*  No  one  in  those  days  made  any 
complaint ;  and  Aristides  died  as  poor  as  he  had  lived. 

Two  remarks  are  here  so  naturally  suggested,  that  they 
hardly  need  any  proof;  the  first  is,  that  Athens,  by  means 
of  this  regulation,  laid  the  foundation  of  its  greatness ;  the 
second  is,  that  hardly  any  government,  and  how  much  less 
a  popular  government,  could  long  withstand  the  temptation 
to  abuse  this  power.    But  a  third  remark  must  be  made  in 


^  Thucyd.  i.  96. 
"  Full  £72,700. 


*  'EWiji/ora/ii'at. 

*•  Plutarch.  Aristid.  Op.  ii.  p.  535. 
H  2 


100 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  VIII. 


connexion  with  the  preceding  observation ;  Athens  gained 
the  importance  which  she  had  for  the  world,  by  means  of 
her  supremacy  over  the  other  states.  It  was  that  which 
made  her  conspicuous  in  the  history  of  mankind.  The  im- 
portance which  she  gained  was  immediately  of  a  political 
nature ;  but  every  thing  of  a  vast  and  noble  character,  for 
which  Athens  was  distinguished,  was  inseparably  connected 
with  her  political  greatness.  We  will  disguise  no  one  of  the 
abuses,  of  which  the  consequences  were  finally  most  fatal 
to  Athens  herself;  but  we  cannot  limit  our  view  to  the 
narrow  range  adopted  by  those,  who  make  the  abuses  the 
criterion  of  their  judgment. 

The  allies,  by  committing  the  conduct  of  the  war  to 
Athens,  expressly  acknowledged  that  city  to  be  the  first  in 
Greece,  and  this  was  silently  acknowledged  by  the  other 
states;  for  Sparta,  which  alone  was  able  to  rival  it  in 
strength,  voluntarily  withdrew  into  the  background.^  Athens 
had  the  consciousness  of  deserving  this  rank ;  for  the  free- 
dom of  Greece  had  had  its  origin  there.  But  it  was  desirous 
of  preserving  its  high  station,  not  by  force  alone,  but  by 
showing  itself  to  be  the  first  in  every  thing,  which  according 
to  the  views  of  the  Greeks  could  render  a  city  illustrious. 
Its  temples  were  now  to  be  the  most  splendid  ;  its  works  of 
art  the  noblest ;  its  festivals  and  its  theatres  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  the  most  costly.  But  for  the  supremacy  of  Athens, 
Pericles  never  could  have  found  there  a  sphere  of  action 
worthy  of  himself;  no  Phidias,  no  Polygnotus,  no  Sophocles 
could  have  flourished.  For  the  public  spirit  of  the  Athenian 
proceeded  from  the  consciousness,  that  he  was  the  first 
among  the  Grecians ;  and  nothing  but  that  public  spirit 
could  have  encouraged  and  rewarded  the  genius,  which  was 
capable  of  producing  works  like  theirs.  Perhaps  their  very 
greatness  prepared  the  fall  of  Athens ;  but  if  they  were 
doomed  to  suffer  for  it,  the  gratitude  due  to  them  from 
mankind,  is  not  on  that  account  diminished. 

The  supremacy  of  Athens  was,  as  the  nature  of  the  whole 
confederation  makes  apparent,  immediately  connected  with 
its  naval  superiority  ;  for  the  allied  states  were  all  islands  or 
maritime  cities.  Thus  the  expressions  of  supreme  command 
{y-fefiovia)  and  domiuiou  of  the  sea,^  that  is,  the  dominion  of 


» Thucyd.  i.  95. 


'  OaXaaaoKpaTia* 


THE  PERSIAN  WARS  AND  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES. 


101 


the  ^gean  and  Ionian  seas,  (for  the  ambition  of  the  Athe- 
nians extended  no  further,)  came  to  signify  the  same  thing. 
This  dominion  of  the  sea  was  therefore,  in  its  origin,  not 
only  not  blamable,  but  absolutely  essential  to  the  attainment 
of  the  object  proposed.  The  security  of  the  Greeks  against 
the  attacks  of  the  Persians  depended  on  it ;  and  so  too  did 
the  continuance  of  the  confederacy.  We  cannot  acquit 
Athens  of  the  charge  of  having  afterwards  abused  her  naval 
superiority ;  but  he  who  considers  the  nature  of  such  alli- 
ances and  the  difficulty  of  holding  them  together,  will  con- 
cede, that  in  practice  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  avoid 
the  appearance  of  abusing  such  a  supremacy;  since  the 
same  things  which  to  one  party  seem  an  abuse,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  other  are  only  the  necessary  means  to  secure  the  end. 
When  the  sea  was  made  secure,  and  no  attack  was  further 
to  be  feared  from  the  Persians, — how  could  it  be  otherwise, 
than  that  the  continuance  of  the  war,  and  consequently  the 
contributions  made  for  that  purpose,  should  be  to  many  of 
them  unnecessarily  oppressive  ?  And  how  could  it  be  avoid- 
ed, that  some  should  feel  themselves  injured,  or  be  actually 
injured  in  the  contributions  exacted  of  them.  The  conse- 
quences of  all  this  were,  on  the  one  side  a  refusal  to  pay  the 
contributions,  and  on  the  other,  severity  in  collecting  them;^ 
and  as  they  continued  to  be  refused,  this  was  considered  as 
a  revolt,  and  wars  followed  with  several  of  the  allies ;  at  first 
with  the  island  Naxos;^  then  with  Thasus,^  with  Samos,* 
and  others.^  But  those  who  had  been  overcome,  were  no 
longer  treated  as  allies,  but  as  subjects ;  and  thus  the  rela- 
tion of  Athens  to  the  several  states  was  different ;  for  a  dis- 
tinction was  made  between  the  voluntary  confederates  and 

*  "  The  Athenians,"  says  Thucydides,  i.  99,  "  exacted  the  contributions  with 
severity ;  and  were  the  more  oppressive  to  the  aUies,  as  these  were  unaccus- 
tomed to  oppression."  But  if  the  Athenians  had  not  insisted  on  the  payment 
of  them  with  severity,  how  soon  would  the  whole  confederacy  have  fallen 
into  ruin. 

'  Thucyd.  1.  98.  '  Thucyd.  i.  100,  101.  *  Thucyd.  i.  1 16. 

'  The  difference  of  the  alUes,  and  also  the  view  taken  by  the  Athenians  of 
their  supremacy,  and  of  the  oppression  with  which  they  were  charged, 
are  no  where  more  clearly  developed,  than  in  the  speech  of  the  Athe- 
nian ambassador  in  Camarina.  Thucyd.  vi.  83,  etc.  "  The  Chians,"  says  he, 
"  and  Methymnaeans  (in  Lesbos)  need  only  furnish  ships.  From  most  of  the 
others,  we  exact  the  tribute  with  severity.  Others,  though  inhabitants  of  is- 
lands, and  easy  to  be  taken,  are  yet  entirely  voluntary  alUes,  on  account  of 
the  situation  of  their  islands  round  the  Peloponnesus." 


102 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  VIII. 


the  subjects/  The  latter  were  obliged  to  pay  m  money  an 
equivalent  for  the  ships,  which  they  were  bound  to  furnish; 
for  Athens  found  it  more  advantageous  to  have  its  ships 
built  in  this  manner,  by  itself.  But  the  matter  did  not  rest 
here.  The  sum  of  the  yearly  tribute,  fixed  under  Pericles 
at  four  hundred  and  sixty  talents,  was  raised  by  Alcibiades^ 
to  six  hundred.  When,  during  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
Athens  suffered  from  the  want  of  money,  the  tribute  was 
changed  into  duties  of  five  per  centum  on  the  value  of  all 
imported  articles,  collected  by  the  Athenians  in  the  har- 
bours of  the  allies.^  But  the  most  oppressive  of  all  was  per- 
haps the  judiciary  power,  which  Athens  usurped  over  the 
alHes ;  not  merely  in  the  differences,  which  arose  between 
the  states,  but  also  in  private  suits.*  Individuals  were  obliged 
to  go  to  Athens  to  transact  their  business,  and  in  conse- 
quence, to  the  great  advantage  of  the  Athenian  householders, 
inn-keepers,  and  the  like,  a  multitude  of  foreigners  were  con- 
stantly in  that  city,  in  order  to  bring  their  affairs  to  an  issue. 
It  is  therefore  obvious,  that  the  nature  of  the  Athenian 
supremacy  was  changed.  It  had  been  at  first  a  voluntary 
association,  and  now  it  had  become,  for  far  the  larger  num- 
ber of  the  states  that  shared  in  it,  a  forced  one.  That  several 
of  the  confederates  were  continually  striving  to  break  free 
from  the  alliance,  has  been  shown  by  the  examples  cited 
above ;  but  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  how  difficult,  or  rather 
how  impossible  it  was,  to  effect  a  general  union  between 
them  against  Athens.  If  they  had  been  desirous  of  attempting 
it,  how  great  were  the  means  possessed  by  Athens,  of  antici- 
pating them.  Yet  there  was  one  moment,  when,  but  for  their 
almost  inconceivable  want  of  forethought,  an  attempt  might 
have  justly  been  expected  from  them ;  and  that  period  was 
the  close  of  the  war  with  Persia.^  The  Greeks  framed  their 
articles  in  the  treaty  of  peace ;  and  had  nothing  further  to 

*  The  avTovofioi  and  the  vTrrfKoot,  both  of  whom  were  still  bound  to  pay  the 
taxes  (vTroreXiig).  Manso,  in  his  acute  illustration  of  the  Hegeinonia,  Sparta 
B.  iii.  Beylage  12,  13,  distinguishes  three  classes ;  those  who  contributed 
ships,  but  no  money ;  those  who  contributed  nothing  but  money ;  and  those 
W'ho  were  at  once  subject  and  tributary.  The  nature  of  things  seems  to  re- 
quire, that  it  should  have  been  so  j  yet  Thucydides,  vi.  69,  makes  no  difference 
between  the  two  last. 

-  Plutarch.    Op.  ii.  p.  535.  »  Thucyd.  vii.  28. 

*  See,  upon  this  subject,  Xenoph.  de  Rep.  Athen.  Op.  694.  ed.  Leunclav. 

*  In  the  year  449  before  Christ ;  be  it  that  peace  was  formally  concluded 
or  not. 


THE  PERSIAN  WARS  AND  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES. 


103 


fear  from  the  Persians.  The  whole  object  of  the  confederacy 
was  therefore  at  an  end.  And  yet  we  do  not  hear  that  any 
voices  were  then  raised  against  Athens.  On  the  other  side,  it 
may  with  propriety  be  asked,  if  justice  did  not  require  of 
the  Athenians,  voluntarily  to  restore  to  the  allies  their  liberty. 
But  this  question  will  hardly  be  put  by  a  practical  statesman. 
To  free  the  allies  from  their  subordination  would  have  been 
to  deprive  Athens  of  its  splendour ;  to  dry  up  a  chief  source 
of  the  revenues  of  the  republic  ;  perhaps  to  pave  the  way  to 
its  ruin.  What  Athenian  statesman  would  have  dared  to 
make  such  a  proposition  ?  Had  he  made  it,  could  he  have 
carried  it  through  ?  Would  he  not  rather  have  insured  his 
own  downfal?  There  are  examples  where  single  rulers, 
weary  of  power,  have  freely  resigned  it ;  but  a  people  never 
yet  voluntarily  gave  up  authority  over  subject  nations. 

Perhaps  these  remarks  may  contribute  to  rectify  the 
judgments  of  Isocrates,^  in  his  celebrated  accusation  of  the 
dominion  of  the  sea;^  which  he  considered  as  the  source  of 
all  the  misery  of  Athens  and  of  Greece.  The  views  which 
he  entertained  were  certainly  just;  but  the  evils  proceeded 
from  the  abuses ;  and  it  were  just  as  easy  to  show,  that  his 
celebrated  Athens,  but  for  that  dominion,  never  would  have 
afforded  him  a  subject  for  his  panegyrics. 

But  how  those  evils  could  result  from  that  abuse ;  how 
they  prepared  the  downfal  of  Athens,  when  Sparta  appeared 
as  the  deliverer  of  Greece  ;  how  the  rule  of  these  deliverers, 
much  worse  than  that  of  the  first  oppressors,  inflicted  on 
Greece  wounds,  which  were  not  only  deep,  but  incurable ; 
in  general,  the  causes  which  produced  the  ruin  of  that 
country,  remain  for  investigation  in  one  of  the  later  chap- 
ters, to  which  we  must  make  our  way  through  some  previous 
researches. 

•  We  shall  be  obliged  to  recur  frequently  to  Isocrates.  It  is  impossible  to 
read  the  venerable  and  aged  orator,  who  was  filled  with  the  purest  patriotism 
which  a  Grecian  could  feel,  without  respecting  and  loving  him.  But  he  was 
a  political  writer,  without  being  a  practical  statesman ;  and,  like  St.  Pierre 
and  other  excellent  men  of  the  same  class,  he  believed  much  to  be  possible 
which  was  not  so.  The  historian  must  consult  him  with  caution.  This 
panegyrist  of  antiquity  often  regarded  it  in  too  advantageous  a  light,  and  is, 
besides,  little  concerned  about  the  accuracy  of  his  historical  delineations. 

'  Isocrat.  Op.  p.  172.  ed.  Steph. 


104 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    IX. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


105 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 

In  the  present  chapter,  we  do  not  undertake  to  give  an  out- 
line of  the  several  Grecian  states ;  but  rather  to  delineate 
the  general  characteristics  of  the  Grecian  forms  of  govern- 
ment. Such  a  general  investigation  seems  the  more  essen- 
tial, as,  in  the  obvious  impossibility  of  analyzing  each  one 
of  them,  it  will  throw  light  on  those,  which  may  hereafter 
be  selected  for  particular  description. 

With  respect  to  a  nation,  in  which  everything  that  could 
be  done  m  public,  was  public ;  where  every  thing  great  and 
glorious  was  especially  the  result  of  this  public  life ;  where 
even  private  life  was  identified  with  that  of  the  public  • 
where  the  mdividual  did  but  live  with  and  for  the  state' 
this  investigation  must  have  a  much  higher  degree  of  in- 
terest, than  if  it  related  to  any  other,  in  which  the  line  of 
division  IS  distinctly  drawn  between  public  and  private  life 
He  who  will  judge  of  the  Grecians,  must  be  acquainted  with 
the  constitutions  of  their  states ;  and  he  must  not  only  con- 
sider the  inanimate  forms,  as  they  are  taught  us  by  the 
learned  compilers  and  writers  on  what  are  called  Grecian 
antiquities ;  but  regard  them  as  they  were  regarded  by  the 
weeks  themselves. 

If  the  remark,  which  we  made  above,^  that  the  Grecian 
states  with  few  exceptions,  were  cities  with  their  districts, 
and  their  constitutions,  therefore,  the  constitutions  of  cities; 
It  this  remark  needed  to  be  further  confirmed,  it  could  be 
done  by  referring  to  the  fact,  that  the  Greeks  designate  the 
Ideas  of  state  and  of  city,  by  the  same  word.^  We  must 
therefore  always  bear  in  mind  the  idea  of  city  constitutions, 
and  never  forget  that  those  of  which  we  are  treating,  not 
only  had  nothing  in  common  with  those  of  the  large  em- 

bv  F "w  T^Fr!.in  """w"^  ^""1  ^''^"#'  i^"  '^P^^^*^  ^^^^"^ts  has  been  made 

dLfr'v  a  J  thP  ^^;..?''  7%^  ^'^  ^^'  ^'.'"^^  Constitutions  proves  his  in- 
di^tr>   and  the  paucity  of  the  accounts  that  have  come  down  to  us. 

tween  t^k,rand\  ^'^^f'^^Sthe  meaning  of  .<JX»c,  and  the  difference  be- 
erCasTub  "'  '"'"''"''^^  ^^^^''^'  ^^^^*  ^P-  "•  P-  ^^' 


pires  of  modern  times,  but  not  even  with  those  of  the  smaller 
principalities.  If  for  the  sake  of  giving  a  distinct  represent- 
ation, we  were  to  compare  them  with  any  thing  in  modern 
history,  we  could  best  compare  them,  as  the  character  of  the 
Italian  cities  of  the  middle  age  is  hardly  more  familiar  than 
that  of  the  Grecian,  with  the  imperial  towns  in  Germany, 
especially  in  the  days  of  their  prosperity,  previous  to  the 
thirty  years'  war,  before  they  were  limited  in  the  freedom 
of  their  movements  by  the  vicinity  of  more  powerful  mon- 
archical states ;  were  it  not  that  the  influence  of  the  differ- 
ence of  religion  created  a  dissimilarity. 

And  yet  this  comparison  may  throw  some  light  on  the 
great  variety,  which  is  observed  in  those  states,  in  spite  of 
the  apparent  uniformity  which  existed  among  the  Grecian 
states,  (as  all  were  necessarily  similar  in  some  respects,)  and 
which  equally  existed  in  those  German  cities.  And  the 
comparison  will  be  still  more  justified,  if  we  add,  that  the 
extent  of  territory  was  as  diflferent  among  the  Grecian  cities, 
and  yet  on  the  whole  was  nearly  the  same.  There  were 
few,  which  possessed  a  larger  territory,  than  formerly  be- 
longed to  Ulm  or  Nuremberg ;  but  in  Greece,  as  in  Ger- 
many, the  prosperity  of  the  city  did  not  depend  on  the 
extent  of  its  territory.  Corinth  hardly  possessed  a  larger 
district  than  that  of  Augsburg;  and  yet  both  rose  to  an 
eminent  degree  of  opulence  and  culture. 

But  great  as  this  variety  in  the  constitutions  may  have 
been,  (and  we  shall  illustrate  this  subject  more  fully  here- 
after,) they  all  coincided  in  one  grand  point.  They  all  were 
free  constitutions ;  that  is,  they  allowed  of  no  rulers,  whom 
the  people  as  a  body,  or  certain  classes  of  the  people,  could 
not  call  to  account;^  he,  who  usurped  such  authority,  was, 
in  the  language  of  the  Greeks,  a  tyrant.  In  this  the  idea 
is  contained,  that  the  state  shall  govern  itself;  and  not  be 
governed  by  an  individual ;  and  of  course  a  very  diflFerent 
view  of  the  state  was  taken  from  the  modern  European  no- 
tion. The  view  of  the  Greeks  was  entirely  opposed  to  that 
of  those  modern  politicians,  who  conceive  of  the  state  as  a 
mere  machine ;  and  of  those  also,  who  would  make  of  it 
nothing  but  an  institution  of  police.    The  Greeks  regarded 

Aristot.  PoHt.  Op.  ii.  p.  251,  282.  The  magistrates  must  be  responsible 
tor  their  administration,  vmvBwoi,  as  the  Greeks  expressed  it. 


106 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  IX. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


107 


the  state,  no  less  than  each  individual,  as  a  moral  person. 
Moral  powers  have  influence  in  it,  and  decide  its  plans  of 
operation.  Hence  it  becomes  the  great  object  of  him  who 
would  manage  a  state,  to  secure  to  reason  the  superiority- 
over  passion  and  desire ;  and  the  attainment  of  virtue  and 
morality,  is  in  this  sense  an  object  of  the  state,  just  as  it 
should  be  of  the  individual. 

If  with  these  previous  reflections  we  proceed  to  investi- 
gate the  laws  of  the  Greeks,  they  will  present  themselves  to 
our  view  in  their  true  light.  The  constitutions  of  their 
cities,  like  those  of  the  moderns,  were  framed  by  necessity, 
and  developed  by  circumstances.  But  as  abuses  are  much 
sooner  felt  in  small  states  and  towns,  than  in  large  ones,  the 
necessity  of  reforms  was  early  felt  in  many  of  them ;  and 
this  necessity  occasioned  lawgivers  to  make  their  appear- 
ance, much  before  the  spirit  of  speculation  had  been  occu- 
pied on  the  subject  of  politics.  The  objects  therefore  of 
those  lawgivers  were  altogether  practical ;  and,  without  the 
knowledge  of  any  philosophical  system,  they  endeavoured 
to  accomplish  them  by  means  of  reflection  and  experience. 
A  commonwealth  could  never  have  been  conceived  of  by 
them,  except  as  governing  itself;  and  on  this  foundation 
they  rested  their  codes.  It  never  occurred  to  them,  to  look 
for  the  means  of  that  self-government,  to  nothing  but  the 
forms  of  government ;  and  although  those  forms  were  not 
left  unnoticed  in  their  codes,  yet  they  were  noticed  only  to 
a  certain  degree.  No  Grecian  lawgiver  ever  thought  of 
abolishing  entirely  the  ancient  usage,  and  becoming,  ac- 
cording to  the  phrase  now  in  vogue,  the  framers  of  a  new 
constitution.  In  giving  laws,  they  only  reformed.  Lycur- 
gus,  Solon,  and  the  rest,  so  far  from  abolishing  what  usage 
had  established,  endeavoured  to  preserve  every  thing  which 
could  be  preserved  ;  and  only  added,  in  part,  several  new 
institutions,  and  in  part  made  for  the  existing  ones  better 
regulations.  If  we  possessed  therefore  the  whole  of  the  laws 
of  Solon,  we  should  by  no  means  find  them  to  contain  a 
perfect  constitution.  But  to  compensate  for  that,  they  em- 
braced, not  only  the  rights  of  individuals,  but  also  morals, 
in  a  much  higher  degree,  than  the  latter  can  be  embraced 
in  the  view  of  any  modern  lawgiver.     The  organization  of 


•*? 


-y 


private  life,  and  hence  the  education  of  youth,^  on  which  the 
prevalence  and  continuance  of  good  morals  depend,  formed 
one  of  their  leading  objects.  They  were  deeply  convinced, 
that  that  moral  person,  the  state,  would  otherwise  be  in- 
capable of  governing  itself  To  this  it  must  be  added,  that 
in  these  small  commonwealths,  in  these  towns  with  their 
territories,  many  regulations  could  be  made  and  executed, 
which  could  not  be  put  into  operation  in  a  powerful  and 
widely  extended  nation.  Whether  these  regulations  were 
always  good,  and  always  well  adapted  to  their  purpose,  is 
quite  another  question ;  it  is  our  duty  at  present  to  show, 
from  what  point  of  view  those  lawgivers  were  accustomed  to 
regard  the  art  of  regulating  the  state,  and  the  means  of  pre- 
serving and  directing  it.^ 

Whenever  a  commonwealth  or  city  governs  itself,  it  is  a 
fundamental  idea,  that  the  supreme  power  resides  w4th  its 
members,  with  the  citizens.  But  it  may  rest  with  the  citi- 
zens collectively,  or  only  with  certain  classes,  or  perhaps 
only  with  certain  families.  Thus  there  naturally  arose 
among  the  Greeks  that  difference,  which  they  designated  by 
the  names  of  Aristocracies  and  Democracies ;  and  to  one  of 
these  two  classes,  they  referred  all  their  constitutions.  But 
it  is  not  easv  to  draw  a  distinct  line  between  the  two.  When 
we  are  speaking  of  the  meaning  which  they  bore  in  practi- 
cal politics,  we  must  beware  of  taking  them  in  that  signifi- 
cation, which  was  afterwards  given  them  by  the  speculative 
politicians,  by  Aristotle^  and  others.  In  their  practical 
politics,  the  Greeks  no  doubt  connected  certain  ideas  with 
those  denominations ;  but  the  ideas  were  not  very  distinctly 
defined ;  and  the  surest  way  of  erring  would  be,  to  desire 
to  define  them  more  accurately  than  was  done  by  the  Greeks 
themselves.  The  fundamental  idea  of  the  democratic  con- 
stitution was,  that  all  citizens,  as  such,  should  enjoy  equal 

^  Aristot.  Polit.  Op.  ii.  p.  301,  336. 

'^  This  taken  together,  forms  what  the  Greeks  called  political  science — 

If  here,  in  investigating  the  practical  meaning  of  those  words,  we  can 
make  no  use  of  the  theoretical  definitions  of  Aristotle  in  his  Politics,  we 
would  not  by  any  means  give  up  the  right  of  citing  him  as  of  authority  in  the 
A  rf'^^u^^  the  Greek  constitutions,  in  so  far  as  he  himself  speaks  of  them. 
And  whose  testimony  on  these  subjects  deserves  more  weight  than  that  of 
the  man,  who,  in  a  work  which  has  unfortunately  been  lost,  described  and 
analyzed  all  the  known  forms  of  government  of  his  time,  two  hundred  and 
ntty-five  in  number. 


108 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   IX. 


rights  in  the  administration  of  the  state ;  and  yet  a  perfect 
equality  existed  in  very  few  of  the  cities.  This  equahty 
was  commonly  limited  to  a  participation  in  the  popular  as- 
semblies and  the  courts/  A  government  did  not  cease  to  be 
a  democracy,  though  the  poorer  class  were  entirely  excluded 
from  all  magistracies,  and  their  votes  of  less  weight  in  the 
popular  assemblies.  On  the  other  hand,  an  aristocracy  al- 
ways pre-supposed  exclusive  privileges  of  individual  classes 
or  families.  But  these  were  very  different  and  various. 
There  were  hereditary  aristocracies,  where,  as  in  Sparta,  the 
highest  dignities  continued  in  a  few  families.  But  this  was 
seldom  the  case.  It  was  commonly  the  richer  and  more 
distinguished  class,  which  obtained  the  sole  administration 
of  the  state ;  and  it  was  either  wealth,  or  birth,  or  both  to- 
gether, that  decided.*  But  wealth  consisted  not  so  much 
in  money,  as  in  land  ;  and  it  was  estimated  by  real  estate. 
This  wealth  was  chiefly  exhibited,  in*  ancient  times,  in  the 
sums  expended  on  horses.  Those  whose  means  were  suffi- 
cient, constituted  the  cavalry  of  the  citizens;  and  these 
formed  the  richer  part  of  the  soldiery,  which  consisted  only 
of  citizens  or  militia.  It  is  therefore  easy  to  understand,  how 
it  was  possible  that  the  circumstance,  whether  the  district 
of  a  city  possessed  much  pasture  land,  could  have  had  so 
much  influence,  in  practical  politics,  on  the  formation  of  the 
constitution.^  It  was  therefore  these  nobles,  the  Eupatridae 
and  Optimates,  who,  though  they  did  not  wholly  exclude 
the  people  from  a  share  in  the  legislation,  endeavoured  to 
secure  to  themselves  the  magistracies,  and  the  seats  in  the 
courts  of  justice ;  and  wherever  this  was  the  case,  there  was 
what  the  Greeks  termed  an  aristocracy.'* 

In  cities,  where  wealth  is  for  the  most  part  measured  by 
possessions  in  lands,  it  is  almost  unavoidable  that  not  only  a 
class  of  great  proprietors  should  rise  up ;  but  that  this  in- 
equality should  constantly  increase;    and   landed  estates 

'  Aristot.  Polit.  iii.  1. 
'  Aristot.  Polit.  iv.  5. 

'  Aristotle  cites  examples  of  it  in  Eretria,  Chalcis,  and  other  cities.  Polit. 
iv.  3. 

*  Oligarchy  was  distinguished  from  this.  But  though  both  words  were  in 
use,  no  other  line  can  be  drawn  between  them,  than  the  greater  or  smaller 
number  of  Optimates,  who  had  the  government  in  their  hands.  That  this 
remark  is  a  true  one  appears  from  the  definitions,  to  which  Aristotle,  Polit. 
iii.  7,  is  obliged  to  have  recourse,  in  order  to  distinguish  them. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


109 


come  finally  into  the  hands  of  a  few  families.*  In  an  ag6 
when  there  were  much  fewer  mechanic  professions,  and 
when  those  few  were  carried  on  chiefly  by  slaves,  the  con- 
sequences of  this  inequality  were  much  more  oppressive ; 
and  it  was  therefore  one  of  the  chief  objects  of  the  lawgivers, 
either  to  prevent  this  evil,  or,  where  it  already  existed,  to 
remedy  it ;  as  otherwise  a  revolution  of  the  state  would 
sooner  or  later  have  inevitably  followed.  In  this  manner 
we  may  understand  why  a  new  and  equal  division  of  the 
land  among  the  citizens  was  made;^  why  the  acquisition 
of  lands  by  purchase  or  gift  was  forbidden,  and  only  per- 
mitted in  the  way  of  inheritance  and  of  marriage;^  why  a 
limit  was  fixed  to  the  amount  of  land,  which  a  single  citizen 
could  possess.*  But  with  all  these  and  other  similar  pre- 
cautions, it  was  not  possible  to  hinder  entirely  the  evil, 
against  which  they  were  intended  to  guard;  and  hence  were 
prepared  the  causes  of  those  numerous  and  violent  commo- 
tions, to  which  all  the  Grecian  states  were  more  or  less 
exposed. 

In  the  constitutions  of  cities,  however  they  may  be  form- 
ed, the  right  of  citizenship  is  the  first  and  most  important. 
He  who  does  not  possess  it,  may  perhaps  live  in  the  city 
under  certain  conditions,  and  enjoy  the  protection  of  its 
laws ;  ^  but  he  is  not,  properly  speaking,  a  member  of  the 
state ;  and  can  enjoy  neither  the  same  rights,  nor  the  same 
respect,  as  the  citizen.  The  regulations,  therefore,  respecting 
sharing  in  the  right  of  citizenship,  were  necessarily  strict ; 
but  they  were  very  different  in  the  several  Grecian  cities. 
In  some,  the  full  privileges  of  citizenship  were  secured,  if 
both  the  parents  had  been  citizens;^  in  others,  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  trace  such  a  descent  through  two  or  three  gener- 
ations ;  7  whilst  in  others,  no  respect  was  had,  except  to  the 
descent  from  the  mother. «  There  were  some  cities  which 
very  rarely  and  with  diflSculty  could  be  induced  to  confer 


^  This  was  the  case  in  Thurii,  Aristot.  Polit.  v.  7. 
^  As  in  Sparta,  by  the  laws  of  Lycurgus. 

As  m  Sparta,  and  also  among  the  Locrians,  Aristot.  PoHt.  ii.  7. 
^  Aristot.  1.  c. 

'These  (AsroiKoi,  inquilmt,  were  formed  in  almost  all  the  Grecian  cities.  It 
was  common  for  them  to  pay  for  protection,  and  to  bear  other  civil  burdens. 
^  As,  for  example,  at  Athens. 

As  in  Larissa,  Aristot.  Polit.  iii.  2.     So  too  in  Massilia. 

Aristot.  Poht.  iii.  5. 


« 


no 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  IX. 


the  right  of  citizenship ;  whilst  in  others  foreigners  were  ad- 
mitted to  it  with  readiness.  In  these  cases,  accidental  cir- 
cumstances not  unfrequently  decided ;  and  the  same  city 
was  sometimes  compelled  to  exchange  its  early  and  severe 
principles,  for  milder  ones,  if  the  number  of  the  ancient  citi- 
zens came  to  be  too  small/  In  colonies,  the  milder  principles 
were  of  necessity  followed ;  since  there  might  arrive  from 
the  mother  country  a  whole  company  of  new  emigrants, 
whom  it  would  either  be  impossible  or  inexpedient  to  reject. 
And  hence  we  may  explain  what  is  so  frequently  observable 
in  the  colonies,  that  the  wards  of  the  citizens  were  divided 
according  to  their  arrival  from  the  different  mother  coun- 
tries; one  of  the  most  fruitful  sources  of  internal  commotions, 
and  even  of  the  most  violent  political  revolutions.^ 

In  free  cities,  the  constitution  and  the  administration  are 
always  connected  in  an  equally  eminent  degree  with  the  di- 
vision of  the  citizens.  But  here  again  we  find  a  vast  differ- 
ence among  the  Greeks.  We  first  notice  those  states,  which 
made  a  distinction  in  the  privileges  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
chief  town,  and  of  the  villages  and  country.  There  were 
some  Grecian  states,  where  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  en- 
joyed great  privileges;  and  the  rest  of  their  countrymen 
stood  in  a  subordinate  relation  to  them  ;^  whilst  in  others 
there  was  no  distinction  of  rights  between  the  one  and  the 
other.*  The  other  divisions  of  the  citizens  were  settled 
partly  by  birth,  according  to  {he  ward  to  which  a  man  hap- 
pened to  belong;^  partly  from  his  place  of  residence, 
according  to  the  district  in  which  he  resided  ;^  and  partly 
from  property  or  the  census,  according  to  the  class  in  which 
he  was  reckoned.  Though  not  in  all,  yet  in  many  states, 
the  ward,  and  the  place  of  residence,  were  attached  to  the 
name  of  each  individual ;  which  was  absolutely  necessary  in 
a  nation  that  had  no  family  names,  or  where  they  at  least 
were  not  generally  introduced.    There  is  no  need  of  men- 

'  Thus  at  Athens,  Ch'sthenes  received  a  large  number  of  foreigners  into  the 
class  of  citizens.     Aristot.  iii.  2. 

^  Examples  of  it  at  Sybaris,  Thurium,  Byzantium,  and  other  places  are 
cited,  Aristotle,  Polit.  v.  3. 

'  Hence  in  Laconia,  the  difference  between  Spartans  and  Lacedaemonians 
(TriploiKci),     So  also  in  Crete  and  in  Argos. 

*  As  at  Athens. 

'^  According  to  the  (pvXai  (or  wards). 

•  According  to  the  drjfioi  (or  cantons). 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


Ill 


tioning  how  important  was  the  difference  in  fortune;  as 
the  proportion  of  the  public  burden  to  be  borne  by  each 
one  was  decided  according  to  his  wealth ;  and  the  kind  of 
service  to  be  required  in  war,  whether  in  the  cavalry  or  the 
infantry,  and  whether  in  heavy  or  light  armour,  was  regu- 
lated by  the  same  criterion  ;  as  will  ever  be  the  case  in  coun- 
tries, where  there  is  no  other  armed  force  than  the  militia 
formed  of  the  citizens. 

On  these  divisions  of  the  citizens,  the  organization  of 
their  assemblies  (eV/cX^y^/at)  was  founded.  These  assemblies, 
which  were  a  natural  result  of  city  governments,  were,  ac- 
cording to  the  views  of  the  Greeks,  so  essential  an  institu- 
tion, that  they  probably  existed  in  every  Grecian  city, 
though  not  always  under  the  same  regulations.  Yet  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  held  in  every  city  except  Athens 
and  Sparta,  is  almost  wholly  unknown  to  us.  The  nature  of 
the  case  required,  that  the  manner  in  which  they  were  to  be 
held,  should  every  where  be  established  by  rule.  It  was  the 
custom  to  give  to  but  one  magistrate  the  right  of  convoking 
and  opening  them.^  But  we  do  not  know  in  what  manner 
the  votes  were  taken  in  the  several  cities,  whether  merely  by 
polls,  or  by  the  wards  and  other  divisions  of  the  people. 
And  in  this,  too,  there  was  a  great  difference,  whether  all 
citizens  had  the  right  of  voting,  or  whether  a  certain  census 
was  first  requisite.^  In  most  of  the  cities,  regular  assemblies 
on  fixed  days,  and  extraordinary  meetings  also,  appear  to 
have  been  held.^  To  attend  was  regarded  as  the  duty  of 
every  citizen  ;  and  as  the  better  part  were  apt  to  remain 
away,  especially  in  stormy  times,  absence  was  often  made  a 
punishable  offence.*  It  may  easily  be  supposed,  that  the 
decisions  were  expressed  in  an  established  form,  written 
down  and  preserved,  and  sometimes  engraved  on  tables. 
But  although  the  forms  were  fixed,  the  subjects  which  might 
come  before  the  assembly  were  by  no  means  so  clearly  de- 
fined. The  principle  which  was  acted  upon  was,  that  sub- 
In  the  heroic  age,  it  was  the  privilege  of  the  kings  to  convoke  the 
assembly.  See  above,  in  the  fourth  chapter. 
^     That  a  great  variety  prevailed  in  this  respect,  is  clear  from  Aristot.  Polit. 

This  was  the  case  in  Athens  and  Sparta. 
*  T'^is  is  the  case,  says  Aristotle,  Polit.  iv.  13,  in  the  oligarchic,  or  aristo- 
cratical  cities ;  while  on  the  contrary,  in  the  democratic,  the  poor  were  well 
paid  for  appearing  in  the  assemblies. 


11^ 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.  IX. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


113 


I 


jects  which  were  important  for  the  community,  were  to  be 
brought  before  it.    But  how  uncertain  is  the  very  idea  of 
what  is  or  is  not  important.    How  much,  too,  depends  on 
the  form  which  the  constitution  has  taken  at  a  certain  period* 
whether  the  power  of  the  senate,  or  of  certain  magistrates 
preponderates.    We  iind  even  in  the  history  of  Rome,  that 
questions  of  the  utmost  interest  to  the  people,  questions  of 
war  and  peace,  were  sometimes  submitted  to  the  people,  and 
sometimes  not.    No  less  considerable  difference  prevailed  in 
the  Grecian  cities.    Yet  writers  are  accustomed  to  compre- 
hend the  subjects  belonging  to  the  common  assemblies  in 
three  grand  classes.^     The  first  embraces  legislation;  for 
what  the  Greeks  called  a  law,  (fo/^o^,)  was  always  a  decree 
passed  or  confirmed  by  the  commons;  although  it  is  difficult, 
we  should  rather  say  impossible,  to  define  with  accuracy 
the  extent  of  this  legislation.    The  second  embraces  the 
choice  of  magistrates.    This  right,  although  not  all  magis- 
trates were  appointed  by  election,  was  regarded,  and  justly 
regarded,  as  one  of  the  most  important  privileges.    For  the 
power  of  the  commons  is  preserved  by  nothing  more  effec- 
tually, than  by  making  it  necessary  for  those  who  would 
obtain  a  place,  to  apply  for  it  to  them.    The  third  class  was 
formed  by  the  popular  courts  of  justice,  which,  as  we  shall 
hereafter  take  occasion  to  show,  were  of  the  highest  import- 
ance as  a  support  of  the  democracy. 

The  consequences  which  the  discussion  and  the  decision 
of  the  most  important  concerns  in  the  assemblies  of  the 
whole  commons  must  inevitably  have  had,  are  so  naturally 
suggested,  that  they  hardly  need  to  be  illustrated  at  large. 
How  could  it  have  escaped  those  lawgivers,  that  to  intrust 
this  unlimited  power  to  the  commons,  was  not  much  less 
than  to  pave  the  way  for  the  rule  of  the  populace,  if  we  in- 
clude under  that  name  the  mass  of  indigent  citizens  ? 

The  most  natural  means  of  guarding  against  this  evil, 
would  without  doubt  have  been  the  choice  of  persons,  pos- 
sessed of  plenary  powers,  to  represent  the  citizens.  But  it 
is  obvious,  that  the  system  of  representation  has  the  least 
opportunity  of  coming  to  perfection  in  city  governments. 
It  IS  the  fruit  of  the  enlarged  extent  of  states ;  where  it  is 

'  The  chief  passage  on  this  subject  is  in  Aristot.  Polit.  iv.  14. 


impossible  for  all  to  meet  in  the  assemblies.  But  in  cities 
with  a  narrow  territory,  what  could  lead  to  such  a  form  ; 
since  neither  distance  nor  numbers  made  it  diflftcult  for  the 
citizens  to  appear  personally  in  the  assemblies.  It  is  true, 
that  the  alliances  of  several  cities,  as  of  the  Boeotian  or  the 
Achaean,  led  to  the  idea  of  sending  deputies  to  the  assem- 
blies ;  but  in  those  meetings,  the  internal  affSairs  of  the  con- 
federates were  never  discussed ;  they  were  reserved  for  the 
consideration  of  each  city  ;  and  the  deliberations  of  the 
whole  body  related  only  to  general  affairs  with  respect  to 
foreign  relations.  But  a  true  system  of  representation  can 
never  be  formed  in  that  manner ;  the  true  sphere  of  action 
of  a  legislative  body,  is  to  be  found  in  the  internal  affairs  of 

the  nation. 

It  was  therefore  necessary  to  think  of  other  means  of 
meeting  the  danger  apprehended  from  the  rule  of  the  popu- 
lace; and  those  means  were  various.  Aristotle  expressly 
remarks,^  that  there  were  cities,  in  which  no  general  assem- 
blies of  the  citizens  were  held  ;  and  only  such  citizens  ap- 
peared, as  had  been  expressly  convoked  or  invited.  These 
obviously  formed  a  class  of  aristocratic  governments.  But 
even  in  the  democracies,  means  ^  were  taken,  partly  to  have 
the  important  business  transacted  in  smaller  divisions,  before 
the  commons  came  to  vote  upon  it ;  partly  to  limit  the  sub- 
jects which  were  to  be  brought  before  them;  partly  to 
reserve  the  revision,  if  not  of  all,  yet  of  some  of  the  decrees, 
to  another  peculiar  board  ;  and  partly,  and  most  frequently, 
to  name  another  deliberate  assembly,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
consider  every  thing  which  was  to  come  before  the  com- 
mons, and  so  far  to  prepare  the  business,  that  nothing  re- 
mained for  the  commons,  but  to  accept  or  reject  the 
measures  proposed. 

This  assembly  was  called  by  the  Greeks,  a  council  (povX^). 
We  are  acquainted  with  its  internal  regulations  only  at 
Athens ;  but  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  in  several  Grecian 
states,  a  similar  assembly  existed  under  the  same  name.^   If 

'  Aristot.  PoUt.  iii.  1.  A  similar  regulation  existed  in  several  German  im- 
perial towns ;  as,  for  example,  in  Bremen,  where  the  most  distmguished 
citizens  were  invited  by  the  senate  to  attend  the  convention  of  citizens ;  and 
of  course  no  uninvited  person  made  his  appearance.  It  is  to  be  regretted, 
that  Aristotle  has  cited  no  Grecian  city  as  an  example. 

'  See  in  proof  what  follows,  Aristot.  Poht.  iv.  14,  Op.  ii.  p.  28b. 

'  As  at  Argos  and  Mantinea,  Thucyd.  v.  47.   So  too  in  Chios,  Thucyd.  vni.  14. 


i 


114 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  IX. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


115 


we  may  draw  inferences  respecting  its  nature  in  other  states 
from  what  it  was  at  Athens,  it  consisted  of  a  numerous  com- 
mittee of  the  citizens  annually  chosen ;  its  members,  taken 
after  a  fixed  rule  from  each  of  the  corporations,  were  chosen 
by  lot ;  but  they  could  not  become  actual  members  without 
a  previous  examination.     For  in  no  case  was  it  of  so  much 
importance  as  here,  to  effect  the  exclusion  of  all  but  honest 
men ;  who,  being  themselves  interested  in  the  preservation 
of  the  state  and  its  constitution,  might  decide  on  the  busi- 
ness presented  to  them,  with  prudence  and  moderation.    In 
Athens,  at  least,  the  greatest  pains  were  taken  with  the  in- 
ternal organization  of  this  body ;  so  that  it  seems  to  us,  as 
will  appear  from  the  investigations  respecting  this  state'  to 
have   been  almost  too  artificial.     Regulations,    similar'  in 
kmd,  though  not  exactly  the  same,  were  probably  established 
m  the  other  cities,  where  similar  wants  and  circumstances 
prevailed.     It  is  easy  to  perceive,  that  the  preservation  of 
the  internal  liberties  of  such  a  body  against  the  encroach- 
ments of  parties  and  too  powerful  individuals,  made  such 
regulations  essential.     It  was  probably  to  promote  this  end 
that  the  appointments  to  the  council  were  made  only  for  the 
year.i    It  prevented  the  committee  from  becoming  a  faction 
and  thus  assuming  the  whole  administration  of  the  state' 
But  beside  this,  another  great  advantage  was  gained  ;  for  in 
this  manner,  by  far  the  larger  number  of  distinguished  and 
upright  citizens,  became  acquainted  with  the  aflfairs  and  the 
government  of  the  state. 

In  other  cities,  instead  of  this  annual  council,  there  was 
a  senate  {^epovda),  which  had  no  periodical  change  of  its 
members,  but  formed  a  permanent  board.  Its  very  name 
expresses  that  it  was  composed  of  the  elders  ;  and  what  was 
more  natural,  than  to  look  for  good  counsel  to  the  experi- 
ence  of  maturity  ?  The  rule  respecting  age  may  have  been 
very  different  m  the  several  cities,  and  perhaps  in  many  no 
rule  on  the  subject  existed.  But  in  others,  it  was  enforced 
with  rigorous  accuracy.  The  immediate  object  was  to  have 
m  It  a  board  of  counsel ;  but  its  sphere  of  action  was  by  no 
means  so  limited.  In  Sparta,  the  assembly  of  elders  had  its 
place  by  the  side  of  the  kings.    The  senate  of  Corinth  is 


mentioned  under  the  same  name  ;  ^  that  of  Massilia*  under 
a  different  one,  but  its  members  held  their  places  for  life ; 
and  in  how  many  other  cities  may  there  have  been  a  coun- 
cil of  elders,  of  which  history  makes  no  mention,  just  as  it 
is  silent  respecting  the  internal  regulations  in  those  just 
enumerated.^  Even  in  cities  which  usually  had  no  such 
senate,  an  extraordinary  one  was  sometimes  appointed  in 
extraordinary  cases,  where  good  advice  was  needed.  This 
took  place  in  Athens  after  the  great  overthrow  in  Sicily.* 

Besides  an  assembly  of  citizens,  or  town  meeting,  and  a 
senate,  a  Grecian  city  had  its  magistrates.  Even  the  ancient 
politicians  were  perplexed  to  express  with  accuracy  the 
idea  of  magistrates.^  For  not  all  to  whom  public  business 
was  committed  by  the  citizens,  could  be  called  magistrates ; 
for  otherwise  the  ambassadors  and  priests  would  have  be- 
longed to  that  class.  In  modern  constitutions,  it  is  not  sel- 
dom difficult  to  decide,  who  ought  to  be  reckoned  in  the 
number  of  magistrates,  as  will  be  apparent  from  calling  to 
mind  the  inferior  oflScers,  But  no  important  misunder- 
standing can  arise,  if  we  are  careful  to  affix  to  the  word  the 
double  idea  of  possessing  a  part  of  the  executive  power ; 
and  of  gaining,  in  consequence  of  the  importance  of  the 
business  intrusted  to  them,  a  higher  degree  of  considera- 
tion than  belonged  to  the  common  citizen. 

In  the  republican  constitutions  of  the  Greeks  a  second 
idea  was  attached  to  that  of  a  magistracy ;  it  was  necessary 
to  call  every  magistrate  to  account  respecting  the  affairs  of 
his  office.^  He  who  went  beyond  this  rule,  ceased  to  be  a 
magistrate  and  became  a  tyrant.    The  magistrate  was  there- 


'  Plutarch.  Op.  ii.  p.  177.  '  Strabo,  iii.  p.  124. 

'  There  was  perhaps  no  one  Grecian  city,  in  which  such  a  council  did  not 
exist,  for  the  nature  of  things  made  it  almost  indispensable.  They  were  most 
commonly  called  /3ou\i)  and  yepovaia,  and  these  words  may  often  have  been 
confounded.  For  although  the  (BovXtj  in  Athens  was  a  body  chosen  from  the 
citizens  but  for  a  year,  and  the  yepovcia  of  Sparta  was  a  permanent  council, 
we  cannot  safely  infer,  that  the  terms,  when  used,  always  implied  such  a  dif- 
ference. In  Crete,  e.  g.  the  council  of  elders  was  called  (5ov\ri,  according  to 
Aristot.  Polit.  ii.  10,  though  in  its  organization  it  resembled  the  ytpovaia  of 
Sparta. 

*  Thucyd.  viii.  i. 

*  See,  on  this  subject,  Aristot.  Polit.  iv.  15.  The  practical  politicians,  no 
less  than  the  theorists,  were  perplexed  in  defining  the  word.  An  important 
passage  may  be  found  in  ^schin.  in  Ctesiphont.  iii.  p.  397,  etc.,  Reisk. 

*  They  were  of  necessity  vwtvOwoi.     Aristot.  Polit.  ii.  12, 

I  2 


116 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap. 


IT. 


fore  compelled  to  recognise  the  sovereignty  of  the  people. 
This  certainly  implied,  that  an  account  was  to  be  given  to 
the  commons ;  but  as  in  such  constitutions  not  every  thing 
was  systematically  established,  there  were  some  states,  in 
which  separate  boards,  as  that  of  the  Ephori  in  Sparta, 
usurped  the  right  of  calling  the  magistrates  to  account.^ 

In  the  inquiry  respecting  magistrates,  says  Aristotle," 
several  questions  are  to  be  considered :  How  many  magis- 
trates there  are,  and  how  great  is  their  authority?  How 
long  they  continue  in  office,  and  whether  they  ought  to 
continue  long?  Further, — Who  ought  to  be  appointed? 
and  by  whom  ?  and  how  ?  These  are  questions,  which  of 
themselves  show,  that  republican  states  are  had  in  view; 
and  which  lead  us  to  anticipate  that  great  variety,  which 
prevailed  on  these  points  in  the  Grecian  constitutions. 
We  desire  to  treat  first  of  the  last  questions. 

According  to  the  whole  spirit  of  the  Grecian  constitu- 
tions, it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  their  leading  principle 
was,  that  all  magistrates  must  be  appointed  by  the  people. 
The  right  of  choosing  the  magistrates  was  always  regarded, 
and  justly  regarded,  as  an  important  part  of  the  freedom  of 
a  citizen.^  But  although  this  principle  was  predominant, 
it  still  had  its  exceptions.  There  were  states,  in  which  the 
first  offices  were  hereditary  in  certain  families.*  But  as  we 
have  already  taken  occasion  to  observe,  this  was  a  rare  case ; 
and  where  one  magistracy  was  hereditary,  all  the  rest  were 
elective ;  at  Sparta,  though  the  royal  dignity  was  heredi- 
tary, the  Ephori  were  chosen.  But  beside  the  appointment 
by  election,  the  custom  very  commonly  prevailed  of  ap- 
pointing by  lot.  And  our  astonishment  is  very  justly  excited 
by  this  method,  which  not  unfrequently  commits  to  chance 
the  appointment  to  the  first  and  most  weighty  employments 
in  the  state.  But  even  in  several  of  the  German  imperial 
towns,  the  lot  had  an  important  share  in  the  appointment 
to  offices.  It  is  uninfluenced  by  favour,  birth,  and  wealth. 
And  therefore  the  nomination  of  magistrates  by  lot,  was 

*  There  were  magistrates  appointed  on  purpose,  called  iv9vvo\oyiarai.    Aris- 
tot.  Polit.  vi.  8. 

'  Aristot.  Polit.  iv.  15. 

"  Aristot.  Polit.  ii.  12.    MriU  ydp  tovtov,  rov  rdg  apypd^  ai^hcOai  Kai  ivQvvtiVy 
Kvptog  (ov  6  Srjftog,  SovXog  &v  tirj  Kai  iroXefiiog. 

*  As  the  kings  in  Sparta. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


117 


considered  by  the  Grecian  politicians,  as  the  surest  charac- 
teristic of  a  democracy.^  But  where  the  appointment  was  left 
to  be  decided  by  that  method,  the  decision  was  not  always 
made  solely  by  it.  He  on  whom  the  lot  fell,  could  still  be 
subjected  to  a  severe  examination,  and  very  frequently  was 
so.  And  where  some  places  were  filled  in  this  way,  it  was 
by  no  means  pursued  in  the  appointment  to  all. 

But  in  the  election,  also,  the  greatest  differences  prevailed  ; 
since  sometimes  all  classes,  and  sometimes  only  particular 
ones,  took  part  in  them.^  To  admit  all  citizens  to  vote,  is 
one  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  a  democracy ;  and  we 
know  this  was  done  not  only  in  Athens,  but  in  many  other 
cities.  But  when  the  aristocratic  and  democratic  party  had 
once  become  distinct^  endeavours  were  almost  inevitably 
made  to  exclude  the  mass  of  the  people  from  any  share  in 
the  elections.  For  the  aristocrat  found  nothing  more  hu- 
miHating,  than  to  approach  the  common  citizen  as  a  suppli- 
ant, before  he  could  arrive  at  places  of  honour.  Where  the 
first  step  succeeded,  the  second  soon  followed ;  and  the 
magistrates  themselves  supplied  any  vacant  places  in  their 
board.  This,  says  Aristotle,^  is  the  peculiar  mark  of  oli- 
garchy, and  leads  almost  always  to  revolutions  in  the  states. 

And  who  was  eligible  to  office  ?  This  question  is  still 
more  important  than  that  respecting  the  electors ;  and  an 
equally  great  difference  prevailed  on  this  point  in  the  vari- 
ous states.  The  maxim,  that  men,  to  whom  the  control  of 
the  public  affairs  should  be  committed,  must  not  only  pos- 
sess sufficient  capacity,  but  must  also  be  interested  in  the 
support  of  existing  forms,  is  so  obvious,  that  the  principle 
of  excluding  the  lower  orders  of  the  people  from  participat- 
ing in  the  magistracies,  could  hardly  seem  otherwise  than 
judicious  and  necessary.^  But  when  it  was  adopted,  it 
could  seldom  be  preserved.  When  a  state  became  flourish- 
ing and  powerful,  the  people  felt  itself  to  be  of  more  im- 
portance ;^  and  it  was  not  always  flattery  of  the  populace, 
which  in  such  times  induced  its  leaders  to  abolish  those 
restrictive  laws,   but  a  conviction  of  the  impossibility  of 


'  Aristot.  Polit.  iv.  15. 

^  Aristotle,  1.  c,  classifies  these  varieties. 


■  Aristot.  1.  c. 

*  That  not  only  Solon,  but  other  lawgivers,  had  adopted  this  regulation,  is 
remarked  by  Aristotle,  Polit.  iii.  11. 

*  See,  on  this  subject  also,  Aristot.  1.  c. 


118 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   IX. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


119 


maintaining  them.  In  an  individual  case,  such  an  unlimited 
freedom  of  choice  can  become  very  injurious ;  but  it  is,  on 
the  whole,  much  less  so  than  it  appears  to  be  ;  and  the  re- 
strictions are  apt  to  become  pernicious.  If  it  be  birth 
which  forms  the  limiting  principle,  if  a  man  must  belong  to 
certain  families  in  order  to  gain  an  office,  it  would  be  made 
directly  impossible  for  men  of  talents  to  obtain  them  ;  and 
this  has  often  produced  the  most  violent  revolutions.  If  for- 
tune be  made  the  qualification,^  this  is  in  itself  no  criterion 
of  desert.  If  it  be  age,  want  of  energy  is  too  often  con- 
nected with  riper  experience. 

In  most  of  the  Grecian  cities,  there  certainly  existed  a 
reason,  why  regard  should  be  had  to  wealth ;  because  that 
consisted  almost  always  in  real  estate.  But  where  the  poor 
were  excluded  by  no  restrictive  laws,  they  were  obliged  of 
their  own  accord  to  retire  from  most  of  the  magistracies. 
These  offices  were  not  lucrative ;  on  the  contrary,  consider- 
able expenses  were  often  connected  with  them.^  There 
were  no  fixed  salaries,  as  in  our  states ;  and  the  prospect 
which  in  Rome  in  a  later  period  was  so  inviting  to  the  ma- 
gistrates, the  administration  of  a  province,  did  not  exist  in 
Greece.  It  was  therefore  impossible  for  the  poorer  class  to 
press  forward  with  eagerness  to  these  offices ;  in  many  cities 
there  even  existed  a  necessity  of  imposing  a  punishment,  if 
the  person  elected  would  not  accept  the  office  committed  to 
him.^  It  was  far  more  the  honour  and  the  glory,  than  the 
gain,  which  gave  a  value  to  the  magistracies.  But  the  hon- 
our of  being  the  first,  or  one  of  the  first,  among  his  fellow  citi- 
zens, is  for  many  a  more  powerful  excitement,  than  that 
which  can  be  derived  from  emolument. 

In  small  republics,  no  other  fear  needs  be  entertained  re- 
specting the  offices  of  magistrates,  than  lest  certain  families 
should  gam  the  exclusive  possession  of  them.  This  is  what 
the  Greeks  meant  by  an  oligarchy,*  when  the  number  of 
such  families  remained  small.  These  were  with  justice  re- 
garded as  a  corruption  of  the  constitutions,    there  may 

'  Many  places  in  Aristotle  show,  that  this  was  the  case  in  a  large  number 
ot  cities  ;  and  under  the  most  various  regulations ;  e  g  iv   1 1 
I  ^s  for  banquets,  public  buildings,  festivals,  etc.    Aristot.  Polit.  vi.  8. 
■  Anstot.  Poht.  IV.  9. 

vi"  ^2^  ^"^^  Aristot.  iv.  6,  but  many  passages  in  Thucydides  j  as,  e.  g., 


have  been  exceptions,  and  we  find  in  history  examples,  both 
within  and  without  Greece,  where  such  states  have  been 
administered  with  moderation  and  wisdom.  But  more  fre- 
quently experience  has  shown  the  contrary  result.  The 
precautions  taken  against  this  evil  by  the  Grecians,  were 
the  same  with  those  adopted  in  many  of  the  German  impe- 
rial towns ;  persons  connected  by  blood,  as  father  and  son, 
or  several  brothers,  could  not  at  the  same  time  be  magis- 
trates.^ Connexions  by  marriage  are  no  where  said  to  have 
excluded  from  office ;  on  the  contrary,  it  would  be  easier  to 
find  examples  of  brothers-in-law  filling  magistracies  at  the 
same  time.^ 

Most  of  the  magistrates  were  chosen  annually ;  many  for 
but  half  a  year.^  This  frequent  renewal  had  its  advan- 
tages, and  also  its  evils.  It  is  the  strongest  pillar  of  the  rule 
of  the  people  ;  which  is  by  nothing  so  much  confirmed,  as 
by  the  frequent  exercise  of  the  right  of  election.  This  was 
the  point  of  view  taken  by  the  politicians  of  Greece,  when 
they  considered  the  authority  of  the  people  to  reside  in  the 
elections.*  That  these  frequent  elections  did  not  tend  to 
preserve  internal  tranquillity,  is  easy  to  be  perceived.  But 
on  the  other  side,  the  philosopher  of  Stagira  has  not  failed 
to  remark,  that  the  permanent  possession  of  magistracies 
might  have  led  to  discontent.^ 

An  enumeration  of  the  different  magistracies  usual  among 
the  Greeks,  is  not  required  by  our  purpose ;  neither  would 
it  be  possible,  as  our  acquaintance  with  the  several  constitu- 
tions of  the  cities  is  incredibly  limited.^  The  little  that  we 
know  of  the  regulations  in  the  individual  states,  especially 
in  Athens,  proves  that  the  number  of  such  offices  was  very 
considerable ;  and  the  same  appears  from  the  classification, 
which  Aristotle  has  attempted  to  make  of  them.*^  Their  du- 
ties are  commonly  indicated  by  their  names;  but  these 
again  were  entirely  different  in  the  various  cities,  even  in 
cases  where  the  duties  were  the  same.  The  Cosmi  were  in 
Crete  what  the  Ephori  were  in  Sparta.     Most  of  the  cities 

'  It  was  so  in  Massilia  and  in  Cnidus.     Aristot.  Polit.  v.  6. 

*  As  Agesilaus  and  Pisander  in  Sparta. 

'  Aristot.  Polit.  iv.  15.         *  Thucyd.  viii.  89.         »  Aristot.  Polit.  ii.  5. 

*  See  Tittman  on  the  Grecian  Constitutions. 
'  See  the  instructive  passage,  Polit.  iv.  15. 


120 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  IX. 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  THE  GRECIAN  STATES. 


121 


must  have  had  a  magistrate  like  the  Archons  in  Athens- 
and  yet  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  the  name  in  any  other! 
The  numerous  encroachments  made  by  the  lawgivers  on 
domestic  life,  contributed  much  to  multiply  the  offices  of 
magistrates  and  extend  their  sphere  of  action.    The  Grecians 
had  formed  no  idea  of  a  police,  as  a  general  branch  of  the 
administration  of  the  state ;  but  they  were  acquainted  with 
several  of  its  branches ;  and  although  they  had  no  general 
board  of  police,  the  circumstances  just  mentioned  led  them 
to  establish  several  particular  branches;  and  even  some 
which  are  not  usual  in  our  times.    The  superintendence  of 
women,  the  superintendence  of  children,  was  in  many  cities 
intrusted  to  particular  magistrates;^  and  as  the  Areopagus 
of  Athens  had  in  general  the  care  of  morals,  there  were  un- 
doubtedly similar  tribunals  in  other  Grecian  cities. 

Thus  then  it  appears,  that  amidst  an  almost  infinite  variety 
of  forms,  assemblies  of  the  citizens,  senates,  and  magistracies, 
are  the  institutions  which  belonged  to  every  Grecian  com- 
monwealth.    The   preservation   of  freedom   and   equality 
among  the  commons  ^  formed  their  chief  object.    It  was  not 
considered  unjust  to  take  from  any  one,  of  whom  it  was  only 
feared  that  he  might  become  dangerous  to  this  freedom,  the 
power  of  doing  injury,  by  a  temporary  banishment  from  the 
city ;  and  this  took  place  at  Athens  and  Argos'  by  ostracism, 
and  by  petalism  in  Syracuse.    Nothing  can  be  more  jealous 
than  the  love  of  liberty ;  and  unfortunately  for  mankind, 
experience  shows  but  too  clearly  that  it  has  reason  to  be  so. 
Nevertheless,  neither  these  nor  other  precautions  were 
able  to  save  the  Grecian  cities  from  the  usurpations  of 
tyrants,  as  they  were  termed.     Few  cities,  in  the  mother 
country,  and  in  the  colonies,  escaped  this  fate.    The  Gre- 
cians connected  with  this  word  the  idea  of  an  illegitimate, 
but  not  necessarily  of  a  cruel  government.     It  was  illegiti- 
mate, because  it  was  not  conferred  by  the  commons ;  but 
usurped  without,  or  even  against  their  will.    A  demagogue, 
however  great  his  power  may  have  been,  was  never,  as  such, 
denommated  a  tyrant ;  but  he  received  the  name,  if  he  set 
himself  above  the  people ;  that  is,  if  he  refused  to  lay  before 

2  The  yvvaiKovofioi  and  the  TraiSovofioi.  Aristot.  1.  c. 
The  avrovonia  and  laovofiia.  '  Aristot.  Polit.  v.  3. 


H, 
'^^ 
tf 


the  people  the  account  which  was  due  to  them.^  The  usual 
support  of  such  an  authority,  is  an  armed  power,  composed 
of  foreigners  and  hirelings ;  which  was  therefore  always  re- 
garded as  the  sure  mark  of  a  tyrant.^  Such  a  government 
by  no  means  necessarily  implied,  that  the  existing  regulations 
and  laws  would  be  entirely  set  aside.  They  could  continue ; 
even  a  usurper  needs  an  administration ;  only  he  raises 
himself  above  the  laws.  The  natural  aim  of  these  tyrants 
usually  was,  to  make  their  power  hereditary  in  their  families. 
But  though  this  happened  in  many  cities,  the  supreme 
power  was  seldom  retained  for  a  long  time  by  the  same 
family.  It  continued  longest,  says  Aristotle,^  in  the  house 
of  Orthagoras  in  Sicyon,  for  as  it  was  very  moderate  and 
even  popular,  it  lasted  a  century ;  and  for  the  same  causes 
it  was  preserved  about  as  long  in  the  house  of  Cypselus  in 
Corinth.  But  if  it  could  not  be  maintained  by  such  means, 
how  could  it  have  been  kept  up  by  mere  violence  and 
terror  ?  Where  the  love  of  freedom  is  once  so  deeply  fixed, 
as  it  was  in  the  character  of  the  Grecians,  the  attempts  to 
oppress  it  only  give  a  new  impulse  to  its  defenders  •     - 

And  by  what  criterion  shall  the  historian,  who  investigates 
the  history  of  humanity,  form  his  judgment  of  the  worth  of 
these  constitutions  ?  By  that,  which  a  modern  school,  placing 
the  object  of  the  state  in  the  security  of  person  and  of  pro- 
perty, desires  to  see  adopted  ?  We  may  observe  in  Greece 
exertions  made  to  gain  that  security ;  but  it  is  equally  clear, 
that  it  was,  and,  with  such  constitutions,  could  have  been, 
but  imperfectly  attained.  In  the  midst  of  the  frequent 
storms,  to  which  those  states  were  exposed,  that  tranquillity 
could  not  long  be  preserved,  in  which  men  limit  their  active 
powers  to  the  improvement  of  their  domestic  condition.  It 
does  not  belong  to  us  to  institute  inquiries  into  the  correct- 
ness of  those  principles  ;  but  experience  does  not  admit  of 
its  being  denied,  that  in  these,  to  all  appearances,  so  imper- 
fect constitutions,  every  thing,  which  forms  the  glory  of  man, 
flourished  in  its  highest  perfection.  It  was  those  very  storms, 
which  called  forth  master  spirits,  by  opening  to  them  a 
sphere  of  action.  There  was  no  place  here  for  indolence 
and  inactivity  of  mind;  where  each  individual  felt  most 

'  By  desiring  to  become  dvvirtvBwog.   Aristot.  Polit.  iv.  10.    See  above,  p.  xxx. 
^  Aristot.  Polit.  iii.  14.  '  Aristot.  Polit.  v.  12. 


U2 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[ciur. 


IX. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF.  THE  GREEKS. 


123 


sensibly,  that  he  existed  only  through  the  state  and  with 
the  state;    where   every  revolution  of  the  state  in  somp 
measure  inevitably  affected  him ;  and  the  security  of  per 
son  and  property  was  necessarily  much  less  firmly  estab 
lished,  than  in  well-regulated  monarchies.     We  leave  to 
eveiy  one  to  form  his  own  judgment,  and  select  his  own 
criterion  ;  but  we  will  draw  from  the  whole  one  general  in 
ference,  that  the  forms  under  which  the  character  of  tL 
human  race  can  be  unfolded,  have  not  been  so  limited  by 
the  hand  of  the  Eternal,  as  the  wisdom  of  the  schools  would 
lead  us  to  believe. 

But  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  value  of  these  con- 
stitutions the  reflection  is  forced  upon  us,  that  they  sur- 
passed all  others  in  internal  variety ;  and  therefore  in  no 
other  nation  could  so  great  an  abundance  of  political  ideas 
have  been  awakened,  and  preserved  in  practical  circulation. 
Of  the  hundreds  of  Grecian  cities,  perhaps  there  were  no 
two,  of  which  the  constitutions  were  perfectly  alike:  and 
none,  of  which  the  internal  relations  had  not  changed  the^ 

IT'  ft  ^7i"r^  ^'^  .^^^^  '"'^  i"  ^^«h  «n«  of  them,  and 
how  often  had  the  experiments  been  repeated  !  And  did  not 

each  of  these  experiments  enrich  the  science  of  politic  with 
new  results?  Where  then  could  there  have  been  s~h 
political  animation,  so  large  an  amount  of  practLT  know 

world,  as  in  the  regions  of  taste  and  letters,  the  oarent  of 

v^rT'nat'  '''^""'^'  ^"i'^^  ^'^"^->''  P--olTculd- 
£eel's  Alihf  T  '''''■  ""^'f  '°  ^'''''  P^ths  than  the 
txreeks.  Although  some  cities  became  pre-eniinent  no  sinde 

'lit3?Xt  C7^h''"^^^'^^  ^P'^'^'^-  of  Athens  cout 
Each  citv  hS  «  1  r^  f^  ^P"'*''  ^^  M"^'"«  «»d  Syracuse, 
and  acti/n  and  t  K  *'''"'  "'  °^"  '"^""«'-  of  existence 
ness  ST/o  r'  ^u""""'"  '""'^  «°«  '»ad  a  conscious- 

pe'Sent  worl"  "'"''  ^'"*  ^^^'^  ^^™^  '^  P—  -  -de- 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 

The  increasing  wants  of  modern  states  have  not  only  em- 
ployed practical  statesmen,  but  have  led  to  the  formation  of 
many  theories,  of  which  the  truth  and  utility  are  still  sub- 
jects of  discussion.  Among  the  ancients,  the  finances  of  the 
nation  were  not  regarded  from  so  high  a  point  of  view,  and 
therefore  could  not  have  been,  in  the  same  degree,  an  object 
of  speculation.  Whether  the  world  has  lost  by  this,  or  not, 
is  a  question  which  we  prefer  to  leave  unanswered.  If  the 
ancients  knew  less  of  the  importance  of  the  division  of 
labour,  they  were  also  less  acquainted  with  the  doctrine  of 
the  modern  schools,  which  transforms  nations  into  productive 
herds.  The  Greeks  were  aware,  that  men  must  have  pro- 
ductive arts,  if  they  would  live ;  but  that  it  is  the  end  of 
hfe  to  be  employed  in  them,  never  entered  their  minds. 

But  the  modern  should  not  look  with  absolute  contempt 
on  the  state  of  political  science  among  the  ancients.  The 
chief  question  now  agitated  between  theorists  and  practical 
statesmen,  whether  the  mere  gain  in  money  decides  on  the 
wealth  of  a  nation,  and  should  form  the  object  of  its  industry, 
was  correctly  understood  and  answered  by  the  illustrious 
Stagirite.  "  Many,"  says  he,'  "suppose  wealth  to  consist  in 
the  abundance  of  coined  money,  because  it  is  the  object  of 
usury  and  commerce.  Money  is  of  itself  without  value,  and 
gains  its  utility  only  by  the  law ;  when  it  ceases  to  be  current, 
it  loses  its  value,^  and  cannot  be  employed  in  the  acquisition 
of  necessaries ;  and  therefore  he  who  is  rich  in  money,  may 
yet  be  destitute  of  a  necessary  support.  But  it  is  ridiculous 
to  say,  that  wealth  consists  in  any  thing,  of  which  a  man 
may  be  possessed,  and  yet  die  of  hunger ;  as  the  fable  relates 
of  Midas,  at  whose  touch  every  thing  became  gold."' 

'  Aristot.  Polit.  i.  9. 

*  "On  Ti  utTaBenEvwv  rwv  xpw/isvwv  ovStvbg  dKiov  Kai  xp»7<y»f»ov  irpbg  ovSev  rwv 
dvayKaiujv  iffTi.  I  refer  xpwjuevwv  to  cities  or  states.  "  If  the  cities  which 
hitherto  made  use  of  it,  change  it." 

'  Aristotle  found  in  the  traditions  of  Greece,  a  more  suitable  example,  than 
that  which  the  French  government  usually  cited  respecting  the  man,  who 
had  abundance  of  gold  on  a  desert  island. 


124 


ANCIENT   GREECE, 


[chap.  X. 


% 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


125 


In  a  nation,  in  which  private  existence  was  subordinate 
to  that  of  the  pubhc,  the  industry  employed  in  the  increase 
of  wealth,  could  not  gain  the  exclusive  importance  which  it 
has  with  the  moderns.    With  the  ancients,  the  citizen  was 
first  anxious  for  the  state,  and  only  next  for  himself.     As 
long  as  there  is  any  higher  object  than  the  acquisition  of 
money,  the  love  of  self  cannot  manifest  itself  so  fully   as 
where  every  more  elevated  pursuit  is  wanting.    While  reli- 
gion m  modern  Europe  primarily  engaged  the  attention  of 
states,  as  of  individuals,  the  science  of  finances  could  not  be 
fully  developed,   although  pecuniary  embarrassment  was 
often  very  sensibly  felt.     Men  learned  to  tread  under  foot 
the  most  glorious  productions  of  mind,  to  trample  upon  the 
monuments  of  moral  and  intellectual  greatness,  before  thev 
received  those  theories  which  assign  to  the  great  instructor 
of  mankind  in  philosophy  and  in  religion,  a  place  in  the  un- 
productive class      In  the  states  of  Greece,  each  individual 
was  obliged  of  himself  to  say,  that  his  own  welfare  was  con- 
nected with  the  welfare  of  the  state ;  that  his  private  welfare 
would  be  ruined  by  a  revolution  in  the  existing  order  of 
things,  by  the  rule  of  the  populace,  or  by  subjection  to  a 
foreign  power ;  that  all  his  industry  was  of  advantage  to  him 
only  while  the  state  should  continue  to  subsist.     Although 
the  patriotism,  thus  produced,  proceeded  frequently  from 
selfishness,  it  had  as  a  consequence,  that  the  exertions  of  the 
individual  were  directed  to  something  besides  his  private 

t'hJnllT/f.,    ^^t^''  ^'f'^"  ^"•'■^••^  ^«^  l«s«  Warded 
han  that  of  the  public.    The  times  arrived,  in  which  this 

oHibeTt  '         *^^^  ^^""^  *^^  precursors  of  the  ruin 

ihlr^'^r^  still  another  reason,  which  contributed  to  make 
the  Greeks  regard  the  arts  of  industry  in  general,  and  some 
Jhtt^l,  particular,  in  a  veiy  different  light  f;om  that  in 
w«   in^lf^  now  considered.  And  this  wS  slaveiy,  which 

servifnJ  ^  ^  P''"'^'"''  ^''^''  ""^^'-  the  form  of  domestic 
servitude,  or,  m  some  states,  of  villanage. 

of  .Lir*'°7*''t''l^''''' ""^  ""^^  ^'^'y'ook  at  the  variety 
of  employments,  which  were  carried  on  by  slaves  and  vil- 

arP  ;nmr!!^H  T!''/"  '•'^'^  household  duties,  which  with  us 

IZZT  1  **"  ^•'"•'"'"i  "°^  ^^'^^''  them,  several  other 
charges,  as  the  superintendence,  and,  in  part,  the  early  edu- 


t 


cation  and  instruction  of  children.    Vanity,  still  more  than 
necessity,  increased  the  number  of  those  who  were  held  m 
bondage,  after  it  became  the  custom  to  be  served  by  a  nu- 
merous retinue  of  beautiful  slaves.     In  the  same  manner  all 
labours  were  performed,  which  are  now  done  by  journeymen 
and  lacqueys.    Some  of  the  rich  Grecians  made  a  busmess 
of  keeping  slaves  to  let  for  such  services.    All  kinds  of 
labour  in  the  mines  were  performed  by  slaves ;  who,  as  well 
as  the  mines,  were  the  property  of  individual  citizens.'   The 
sailors  on  board  of  the  galleys  consisted,  at  least  in  part,  of 
slaves.     Most  if  not  all  trades  were  carried  on  by  slaves ; 
who  were  universally  employed  in  the  manufacturing  estab- 
lishments.    In  these,  not  only  the  labourers,  but  also  the 
overseers  were  slaves ;  for  the  owners  did  not  even  trouble 
themselves  with  the  care  of  superintending ;  but  they  farmed 
the  whole  to  persons,  who  were  perhaps  often  the  overseers 
also,  and  from  whom  they  received  a  certain  rent,  accordmg 
to  the  number  of  slaves,  which  they  were  obliged  to  keep 
undiminished.^     In  those  states  where  there  were  slaves 
attached  to  the  soil,  as  in  Laconia,  Messenia,  Crete,  and 
Thessaly,  agriculture  was  conducted  exclusively  by  them. 
In  the  others,  the  masters  may  have  bestowed  more  attention 
on  the  subject ;  but  as  the  Strepsiades  of  the  comedian 
shows,  they  did  little  more  than  superintend ;  and  the  work 

was  left  to  the  slaves.  ,        v    •    j 

If  we  put  all  this  together,  we  shall  see  how  limited 
were  the  branches  of  industry  which  remained  for  the 
free.  But  the  most  unavoidable,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  important  consequence  of  it  was,  that  all  those  em- 
ployments which  were  committed  to  slaves,  were  regarded 
as  mean  and  degrading ;'  and  this  view  of  them  was  not  only 
confirmed  by  prevailing  prejudices,  but  expressly  sanctioned 
by  the  laws.  To  this  class  belonged  especially  the  me- 
chanics, and  even  the  retailers.  For  although  all  mechanic 
employments  were  by  no  means  conducted  by  slaves,  a  shade 
was  thrown  on  them  all.  '^  In  well-regulated  states,"  says 
Aristotle,*  ''  the  lower  order  of  mechanics  are  not  even  ad- 
mitted to  the  rights  of  citizens ; "  and  now  we  cease  to 

»  Xenoph.  de  Redit.  speaks  of  this  at  large.  '  See  Petit,  de  Leg.  Att.  ii.  6. 

'  Bdvavaoi,  artes  illiberaUs.     We  have  no  word  which  exactly  expresses  this 
idea,  because  we  have  not  the  thing  itself. 
*  Aristot.  Polit  iii.  5.     'H  h  ptXriffTri  iroKig  oi  noititm  pdvauaov  ttoXittjv. 


126 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.  X. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


127 


wonder  at  the  proposition  of  another  statesman,'  who  would 
commit  all  mechanic  labours  to  public  slaves.  This  was  not 
merely  a  theory ;  it  was  once  actually  put  in  practice  at 
tpidamnus.^  In  the  cities  which  were  democraticallv 
governed,  the  condition  of  the  mechanics  was  somewhat 
more  favourable.  They  could  become  citizens  and  mao-Js 
trates,  as  at  Athens  during  the  period  of  the  democracy ' 
1  he  inferior  branches  of  trade  were  not  looked  upon  with 
much  more  favour.  In  Thebes,  there  was  a  law,  that  no  one 
who  within  ten  years  had  been  engaged  in  retail  dealings' 
could  be  elected  to  a  magistracy.*  ^'' 

As  the  Grecian  cities  were  very  different  in  character,  the 
Ideas  which  prevailed  on  this  subject  could  not  be  the  same 
In  those  states  where  agriculture  was  the  chief  employment' 
the  other  means  of  gaining  a  livelihood  may  have  been  des- 
pised     In  maritime  and  commercial  towns,  of  which  the 
number  was  very  considerable,  the  business  of  commerce 
must  have  been  esteemed.     But  those  who  were  employed 
in  manufacturing  and  selling  goods,  were  never  able  to  gain 
that   degree   of  respectability   which    they   enjoy   among- 
modern  nations.^   Even  in  Athens,  says  Xenophon,"  much 
would  be  gained  by  treating  more  respectfully  and  more 
hospitably  the  foreign  merchants,  brought  by  their  business 
to  that  city.    The  income  derived  from  landed  estate,  was 
most  esteemed  by  the  Greeks.    "  The   best   nation,"  says 
Aristotle,'     is  a  nation  of  farmers." 

From  the  little  esteem  in  which  the  other  means  of  gain- 
ing a  livelihood  were  held,  it  followed  that  a  wealthy  mid- 
dling class  could  not  be  formed  in  the  Grecian  states;  and 
this  IS  censured  by  those  who  have  criticised  their  constitu- 
tions, as  the  chief  cause  of  their  unsettled  condition.  But  this 
censure  rests,  for  the  most  part,  on  an  erroneous  representa- 
lon.  It  was  degrading  for  a  Grecian  to  carry  on  any  of 
those  kinds  of  employment  with  his  own  hands ;  but  it  by  no 
means  lessened  his  consideration  to  have  them  conducted  on 
his  account.  Workshops  and  manufactures,  as  well  as  mines 
and  lands,  could  be  possessed  by  the  first  men  in  the  country. 

'  Phaneas  of  Chalcedon.    Aristot.  Polit.  ii  7 
Anstot.  Polit.  1.  c.  '  Aristot.  Polit.  iii.  4.  -  Aristot  1  c 

Compare  on  this  subject,  first  of  all,  Aristot.  Polit.  i.  1 1  wherehe  analvies 
and  treats  of  the  several  branches  of  industry  analyze, 

•  Xen.  de  Redit.  Op.  p.  922,  Leunclav.     ''  >  Aristot.  Polit.  vi.  4 


•ft* 
I* 

3f 


% 


The  father  .of  Demosthenes,  a  rich  and  respectable  man,  left 
at  his  death  a  manufactory  of  swords ;  which  was  kept  up 
by  his  son  ;^  and  examples  could  be  easily  multiplied,  from 
the  orators  and  the  comedian.  When  this  circumstance  is 
kept  in  view,  the  blame  attached  to  the  Grecian  constitutions 
is  in  a  great  measure,  though  not  entirely  removed.  The 
impediments  which  public  opinion  put  in  the  way  of  indus- 
try, did  not  so  much  injure  those  concerned  in  any  large 
enterprise,  as  those  engaged  in  the  smaller  occupations. 
The  latter  did  really  feel  the  evil,  and  we  are  not  disposed 
to  represent  it  as  inconsiderable. 

But  we  must  return  once  more  to  the  remark  which  ex- 
plains the  true  cause  of  this  regulation  ;  that  in  the  Grecian 
states,  public  life  was  placed  above  private  hfe.  "All  agree," 
says  Aristotle,- "that  in  every  well-regulated  state,  sufficient 
leisure  must  be  preserved  from  the  wants  of  life  for  the 
public  business ;  but  a  difference  of  opinion  exists  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  this  can  be  done.  It  is  effected  by  means 
of  slaves ;  who  are  not,  however,  treated  in  all  places  alike." 
Here  we  have  the  point  of  view,  from  which  the  politician 
should  consider  slavery  in  Greece.  It  served  to  raise  the  class 
of  citizens  to  a  sort  of  nobility,  especially  where  they  consisted 
almost  entirely  of  landed  proprietors.  It  is  true,  that  this 
class  lived  by  the  labours  of  the  other ;  and  every  thing, 
which  in  modern  times  has  been  said  respecting  and  against 
slavery,  may  therefore  so  far  be  applied  to  the  Grecians. 
But  their  fame  does  not  rest  on  the  circumstance  of  their 
obtaining  that  leisure  at  the  expense  of  the  lower  order ;  but 
in  the  application  which  the  noblest  of  them  made  of  that 
leisure.  No  one  will  deny,  that  without  their  slaves,  the 
character  of  the  culture  of  the  upper  class  in  Greece  could 
in  no  respects  have  become  what  it  did ;  and  if  the  fruits 
which  were  borne  possess  a  value  for  every  cultivated  mind, 
we  may  at  least  be  permitted  to  doubt,  whether  they  were 
too  dearly  purchased  by  the  introduction  of  slavery.^ 

'  Demosth.  adv.  Aphob.  Op.  ii.  p.  816.  *  Aristotle  ii.  9. 

'  This  may  be  the  more  safely  asserted,  because  it  is  hardly  possible  to  say 
any  thing  in  general  on  the  condition  of  slaves  in  Greece ;  so  different  was  it 
at  different  times ;  in  different  countries ;  and  even  in  the  same  country.  On 
this  subject  I  would  refer  to  the  following  instructive  work ;  Geschichte  und 
Zustand  der  Sclaverey  und  Leibcigcnschaft  in  Griechenland,  von  J.  F.  Reite- 
meyer.  Berhn,  1789.  History  and  Condition  of  Slavery  and  Villanage  in 
Greece,  by  J.  F.  Reiteraeyer.  ,  . 


128 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  X 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


1^9 


i 


1-  ?  I  ^'•^\«^«'"t'ons  of  industry  were  in  some  meas,,r. 
limited  by  the  regulations  of  which  we  have  spoken     buT^ 
a  very  different  manner  from  any  usual  in  our  times'    tI 
were  the  result  of  public  opimL;  and  if  tLy  w  're  con^ 
firmed  by  the  laws,  this  was  done  in  conformity    o  that 
ppm>on.     In  other  respects,  the  interference  of  goLmnen 
m  the  matter  was  mconsiderable.     No  efforts  were  ^1? 
preserve  the  mass  of  spec.e  undiminished,  or  tllncrTase  i 
nothing  was  known  of  the  balance  of  trade     and  Tnn    ' 
quently,  all  the  violent  measures  result W  from   it  w 
never  devised  by  the  Greeks.    They  had  duties  "s  weH? 
he  moderns;  but  those  duties  Jre  exacted  on^  for \h 

Pffnt    V!1""''""^.*H"  P"*^''*^  '•^^e""'''  not  to  d^rec    the 
w!rp?  °!r^'"^^*''=  '"dustry,  by  the  prohibition  of  certl 

factures  atL  iXTtKgr:^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

lidtd'  '^'f^^'l^  fr^^doSi  of  occupations  commT"' 

ining  was  decided  by  circumstances,  and  not  bv  theorJP, 
there  may  have  been  single  exceptions ;  and  perhans  S 
examples,^  where  the  state  for  a  season  Usurped  a  mSoS 

tlJoffhlT?'"-'"^"'"'^'  ^'^^^^"  n^tion^^l  economy  and 

words  on  a  ^nhi.^f  ^"e 'atter,  it  wjl  be  useful  to  say  a  few 
money  of  the  &r         "  equally  important  to  bofh;  the 

cantfTt  would?  ''"  '"''*  ^"^''"^  ™«"^y'  but  finances 
money  fiJrblm'^  Z^rTLVrV''  'T  f'""  ^^'"^'^ 
was  first  coined  in  the  colt  'uselfR  T^  ^^^V^^ney 
give  an  exact  answer  to  rheJof  fhl.  n      1*  '"  '''^'"  *,  " 

to  the  first.    Homer  never  speaks  of  'l^"''''"°j'  u'-'PT"^ 
■  Th.        .^      ,       ^ '^'^  ^P^^'^s  ot  money ;  and  his  silence 

hibiSTlS°a7/:Ser/ thi'P^^^^^^^^  "'^'  ^^^  ^ave  been  pro- 
prohibitions  were  naturiund  ^ouM  not  ^Xf^  "If  .  ^PP^^hended  s'uch 
mark  in  the  text  refers  to  nmhihinv^c  V  r  .     °^  ^^^^^  "^ade.     The  re- 

export  of  unmanufe^turerwoor^Tl^i; 'r.lLtr^''^  ''?^'^''>'  ^^  °'  'I' 
remarks  of  Professor  Boerkh  in  >,;.         explanation  is   in  answer  to  the 

Athenians,  i.  56.""^  ^"^  Aristot.'d':  TFamil.  Ui''"'"'=  ^'=°"°'"^  °'  *^ 


is  in  this  case  valid  as  evidence ;  for  in  more  than  one  pas- 
sage where  he  speaks  of  a  barter/  he  must  necessarily  have 
mentioned  it,  if  he  had  been  acquainted  with  it.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  may  confidently  affirm  on  the  authority  of 
Demosthenes,  that  in  the  age  of  Solon,*  coined  silver  money 
was  not  only  known  in  the  cities  of  Greece,  but  had  been 
in  circulation  for  a  length  of  time ;  ^  for  the  punishment  of 
death  had  already  been  set  upon  the  crime  of  counterfeiting 
it;  Solon  mentioned  it  as  in  general  use  throughout  the 
Grecian  cities ;  and  many  of  them  had  already  supplied  its 
place  with  the  baser  metals.  The  Grecian  coins,  which  are 
still  extant,  can  aflford  us  no  accurate  dates,  as  the  time  of 
their  coinage  is  not  marked  upon  them ;  but  several  of  them 
are  certainly  as  ancient  as  the  age  of  Solon ;  and  perhaps 
are  even  older.  The  coins  of  Sybaris,  for  example,  must  be 
at  least  of  the  sixth  century  before  the  Christian  era ;  as  that 
city  was  totally  destroyed  in  the  year  510  B.C.  The  most 
ancient  coins  of  Rhegium,  Croton,  and  Syracuse,  seem  from 
the  letters  in  the  superscriptions  to  be  of  far  higher  anti- 
quity.* If  the  account  that  Lycurgus  prohibited  in  Sparta 
the  use  of  money  of  the  precious  metals,  is  well  supported,* 
we  should  be  able  to  trace  the  history  of  Grecian  coins  to  a 
still  more  remote  age ;  and  this  opinion  is  corroborated  at 
least  by  the  narration  of  the  Parian  chronicle,^  that  Phidon 


'  As  for  example,  II.  vi.  472.     Od.  i.  430. 

'  About  600  years  before  the  Christian  era. 

'  "  I  will  relate  to  you,"  says  the  orator,  while  opposing  a  bill  brought  in 
by  Timocrates, "  what  Solon  once  said  against  a  man  who  proposed  a  bad  law^ 
The  cities,  said  he  to  the  judges,  have  a  Taw,  that  he  who  counterfeits  money, 
shall  be  put  to  death.  He  thought  this  law  was  made  for  the  protection  of 
private  persons,  and  their  private  intercourse ;  but  the  laws  he  esteemed  the 
coin  of  the  state.  They,  therefore,  who  corrupt  the  laws,  must  be  much 
more  heavily  punished,  than  they  who  adulterate  the  coinage  or  introduce 
false  money.  Yea,  many  cities  exist  and  flourish,  although  they  debase  their 
silver  money  with  brass  and  lead ;  but  those  which  have  bad  laws,  will  cer- 
tainly be  ruined."  Demosth.  in  Timocrat.  Op.  i.  p.  763,  764.  Compare  with 
this  what  Herod,  iii.  56,  remarks  of  the  counterfeit  money,  with  which  Poly- 
crates  is  said  to  have  cheated  the  Spartans. 

*  Ekhel.  Doctrina  Nummorum  Veterum,  i.  p.  170 — 177,242. 

*  Plutarch,  in  Lycurg.  Op.  i.  p.  177.  His  code  is  computed  to  have  been 
given  about  880  years  B.  C. 

*  Marmor  Parium.  Ep.  xxxi.  cf.  Strabo  viii.  p.  563.  This  was  about  15 
years  before  the  legislation  of  Lycurgus.  It  might,  therefore,  not  without 
probabihty  be  supposed,  that  Lycurgus  wished  and  was  able  to  prohibit 
money  of  the  precious  metals,  because  it  at  that  time  was  just  beginning  to 
circulate  in  Greece. 


130 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap. 


X. 


of  Argos  in  the  year  63 1  (i.  e.  895  years  B.  C.)  first  began 
to  coin  silver  in  the  island  of  -^gina. 

But  although  we  cannot  at  present  trace  the  history  of 
coined  money  in  Greece  any  further/  we  may  from  the 
preceding  observations  infer  one  general  conclusion ;  the 
founding  of  colonies  and  the  intercourse  kept  up  with 
them,  caused  coined  money  to  be  introduced  and  exten- 
sively used  in  Greece.  Before  their  foundation,  the  Greeks 
knew  nothing  of  coined  money.  When  money  was  first 
coined  in  iEgina,  the  colonies  of  Asia  Minor  and  of  Magna 
Graecia^  were  already  established  and  flourishing ;  and  we 
are  expressly  informed,  that  money  was  coined  in  that  is- 
land, in  order  to  carry  on  commerce  beyond  the  sea."*  It 
cannot  be  proved  with  certainty,  that  money  was  coined  in 
the  Asiatic  colonies  sooner  than  in  the  mother  country. 
But  when  we  call  to  mind  the  well-known  relation  of  Hero- 
dotus,* that  the  Lydians  were  the  inventors  of  money  coined 
of  gold  and  silver,  (a  thing  in  itself  not  improbable,  as  it  is 
known  that  Lydia  abounded  in  gold,^)  and  that  the  most 
flourishing  Grecian  colonies  were  situated  on  the  Lydian 
coasts,  we  cannot  but  find  it  highly  probable,  that  the 
Greeks  received  the  art  of  coining,  like  so  many  other  in- 
ventions, from  Asia ;  and  here  too  the  remark  is  valid,  that 
in  their  hands  every  thing  received  a  new  form  and  a  new 
beauty.  For  no  nation  has  ever  yet  had  coins,  of  which  the 
stamp  equalled  in  beauty  those  of  the  Grecian,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  Sicilian  cities. 

The  right  of  minting  gold  was  regarded  in  Greece  as  the 
privilege  of  the  state,  which  superintended  it.  Hence  arose 
that  variety  and  multitude  of  city  coins,  which  are  easily 
distinguished  by  their  peculiar  stamps.  Coins  were  also 
struck  by  several  of  the  tribes,  the  Thessalians,  the  Boeotians, 
and  others,  as  they  formed  by  their  alliances  one  political 
body. 

Though  the  Grecian  coins  were  of  both  precious  and  base 

*  Compare  Wachteri  Archaeologia  Nummaria,  Lips.  1740;  and  the  intro- 
ductory inquiries  in  Ekhel.  D.  N.  V. 

^  As  e.  g.  Cumae. 

'  Strabo  viii.  p.  577-     He  refers  to  Ephorus.  «  Herod,  i.  94. 

*  Nor  is  there  any  other  nation  which  disputes  this  honour  with  the  Ly- 
dians. For  the  Egyptians,  e.  g.,  are  named  without  any  reason.  See  Wachter, 
1.  c.  cap.  iv. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


181 


metals,  they  were  originally  struck  of  precious  metal  only, 
and  probably  at  first  of  nothing  but  silver.  So  few  of  the 
gold  coins  have  been  preserved,  that  we  cannot  certainly 
say,  whether  they  are  altogether  as  ancient ;  but  those  of 
base  metal  are  certainly  of  a  later  period.  That,  even  before 
the  time  of  Solon,  silver  money  had  in  many  cities  a  large 
proportion  of  alloy,  appears  from  the  passage  which  we  cited 
from  Demosthenes.^  In  Hellas  itself,  we  know  of  no  silver 
mines  except  those  of  Laurium,  which  were  very  ancient;^ 
but  the  gold  mines  of  Thrace  and  the  neighbouring  island 
Thasos  were  quite  as  ancient,  for  they  were  wrought  by  the 
Phoenicians.  Yet  the  Greeks  received  most  of  their  gold 
from  Lydia.  And  still  there  was  not  specie  enough  in  cir- 
culation, especially  in  the  commercial  towns ;  and  although 
the  Greeks  knew  nothing  of  paper  money,  several  cities 
made  use  of  the  same  resource,  which  had  been  introduced 
at  Carthage,^  the  use  of  nominal  coins,  which  possessed  a 
current  value,  not  corresponding  to  their  intrinsic  one.* 
Such  was  the  iron  money  (if  my  view  is  a  just  one)  which 
was  adopted  in  Byzantium,  Clazomene,^  and  perhaps  in 
some  other  cities.^  It  is  certain,  therefore,  that  the  Greeks 
had  money  which  was  current  only  in  the  state,  and  out  of 
it  was  of  no  value ;  as  we  learn  also  from  a  passage  in  Plato.'^ 
It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  that  we  do  not  know  by  what 
means  its  value  was  kept  from  falling. 

The  inquiry  into  the  economy  of  a  nation,  intricate  as  it 
may  be,  can  be  reduced  to  the  following  points:  What 
were  the  wants  of  the  state?  What  means  were  adopted  to 

*  Yet  the  ancient  gold  coins  which  we  still  possess,  have  almost  no  alloy, 
and  the  silver  ones  very  little. 

^  So  old,  that  it  was  impossible  to  fix  their  age.    Xenoph.  de  Redit.  Op. 

p.     U^TTt 

»  Heeren's  Ideen  ii.  S.  164.  *  Pollux  ix.  78. 

*  Aristot.  CEcon.  ii.  Op.  ii.  p.  383.     A  decisive  passage. 

*  Most  of  the  cities,  says  Xenophon,  Op.  p.  922,  have  money,  which  is  not 
current  except  in  their  own  territory ;  hence  merchants  are  obliged  to  barter 
their  own  wares  for  other  wares.  Athens  makes  a  solitary  exception ;  its 
silver  drachmas  had  universal  currency.  It  was  therefore  quite  common  for 
cities  to  have  two  kinds  of  money,  coins  of  nominal  value,  current  only  in 
the  city  which  struck  them ;  and  metallic  money,  of  which  the  value  de- 
pended on  its  intrinsic  worth,  and  which  circulated  in  other  places.  Hence 
I^lato,de  Legg.  v.  p.  742,  permits  this  in  his  state. 

'  Plato  1.  c.  The  current  silver  money  consisted  in  drachmas,  and  pieces 
of  money  were  struck  of  as  much  as  four  drachmas.  Ekhel.  i.  p.  Ixxxv. 
thinks  it  probable,  that  the  other  cities,  in  their  silver  coin,  followed  the 
Attic  standard. 

K  2 


132 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  X. 


supply  them  ?  How  were  those  means  brought  together  ? 
How  administered  ?  The  inquiry  respecting  the  economy 
of  the  Grecian  states  will  be  conducted  with  reference  to 
these  questions. 

The  small  republics  of  that  people  appear  at  the  first 
view,  according  to  the  modern  criterion,  to  have  hardly  had 
any  wants,  which  could  make  a  financial  system  necessary ; 
and  in  fact  there  were  some  states,  as  Sparta  during  a  lon^ 
period,  without  any  finances.  The  magistrates  were  re- 
warded with  honour,  not  with  a  salary.  The  soldiers  were 
citizens,  and  not  hirelings  ;  and  many  of  those  public  insti- 
tutions, which  are  now  supported  by  the  governments  for 
the  most  various  purposes,  and  in  part  at  very  great  expense, 
were  then  entirely  unknown,  because  they  were  not  felt  to 
be  necessary. 

And  yet  we  find  that  the  burdens  which  the  citizens  of 
those  republics  had  to  support,  continued  gradually  to  in- 
crease ;  especially  at  the  epochs  of  the  Persian  wars,  and 
the  Peloponnesian,  and  in  the  later  period  of  Grecian  li- 
berty, they  became  very  oppressive.     States   can   create 
wants,  no  less  than  individuals.    Even  in  Greece,  experi- 
ence shows  that  necessities  are  multiplied  with  the  increase 
of  power  and  splendour.    But  when  we  call  them  oppressive, 
we  must  not  forget,  that  the  heaviness  of  the  contributions 
paid  to  the  state,  is  not  to  be  estimated  by  their  absolute 
amount;    nor   yet  by  the  proportion   alone,    which   that 
amount  bears  to  the  income.    In  our  present  investigations, 
It  IS  more  important  to  bear  in  mind,  what  our  modern 
economists  have   entirely  overlooked,  that   in   republican 
States  (or  at  least  more  especially  in  them)  there  exists,  be- 
side the  criterion  of  money,  a  moral  criterion,  by  which  a 
judgment  on  the  greater  or  less  degree  of  oppression  is  to 
be  formed.    Where  the  citizen  exists  only  with  and  for  the 
state  ;  where  the  preservation  of  the  commonwealth  is  every 
thing  to  the  individual ;  many  a  tax  is  easily  paid,  which 
under  other  circumstances  would  have  been  highly  oppres- 
sive.   But  m  the  theories  of  our  modern  political  artists, 
there  is  no  chapter,  which  treats  of  the  important  influence 
ot  patriotism  and  public  spirit  on  the  financial  system  :  pro- 
bably because  the  statistical  tables  have  no  rubric  for  them 
as  sources  of  produce. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


133 


The  wants  of  states  are  partly  established  by  their  nature  ; 
but  still  more  by  opinion.  That  is  a  real  want,  which  is 
believed  to  be  such.  The  explanation  of  the  management 
of  the  affairs  of  any  nation  would  necessarily  be  very  im- 
perfect, if  we  should  pay  no  regard  to  the  ideas  which  it 
entertained  respecting  its  necessities.  On  this  point  the 
Greeks  had  very  different  notions  from  ours.  Many  things 
seemed  essential  to  them,  which  do  not  appear  so  to  us ; 
many  things  are  needed  by  us,  of  which  they  did  not  feel 
the  necessity. 

The  first  object  with  the  Greek  was  the  honour  and 
splendour  of  his  city.  In  that  world  of  small  republics,  each 
wished  to  make  itself  remarkable ;  each  to  be  distinguished 
for  something.  Now  there  were  two  things  which,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Greeks,  rendered  a  city  illustrious ;  its  public 
monuments  and  its  festivals.  These  objects  were  therefore 
politically  necessary,  in  a  different  sense  from  that  in  which 
they  can  be  called  so  in  modern  states.  Among  these  the 
first  place  belongs  to  the  temples.  No  Grecian  city  was 
without  gods,  of  whom  it  honoured  some  as  its  guardian 
deities.  How  could  these  gods  be  left  without  dwelling- 
places  ?  The  art  of  sculpture  was  very  naturally  exerted  in 
connexion  with  that  of  architecture  ;  for  the  statues  of  the 
gods  did  not  merely  adorn  the  temples,  but  were  indispens- 
ably necessary  as  objects  of  adoration.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  festivals.  Life  without  holidays  would  have 
ceased  to  be  life  to  a  Greek.  But  these  holidays  were  not 
passed  exclusively  in  prayers,  or  at  banquets.  Processions, 
music,  and  public  shows,  were  an  essential  part  of  them. 
These  were  not  merely  the  diversions  of  the  people  during 
the  festival,  they  constituted  the  festival  itself 

All  this  was  intimately  connected  with  religion.  The 
Greeks  had  almost  no  public  festivals  except  religious  ones. 
They  were  celebrated  in  honour  of  some  god,  some  hero ; 
above  all,  in  honour  of  the  patron  deities  of  the  place.^ 
By  this  means,  many  things  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
regard  as  objects  of  amusement,  received  a  much  more  ele- 
vated character.  They  became  duties  enjoined  by  religion  ; 
which  could  not  be  neglected  without  injury  to  the  honour 

'  Meursii  Graecia  Feriata,  in  Gronov.   Thes.  Ant.  Graec.  vol.  vii.,  is  one  of 
the  richest  compilations  on  the  subject  of  the  Grecian  festivals. 


134 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap. 


X. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


135 


and  reputation,  and  even  to  the  welfare  of  the  city.  The 
gods  would  have  been  incensed ;  and  the  accidental  evils, 
which  might  have  fallen  on  the  city,  would  infallibly  have 
been  regarded  as  punishments  inflicted  by  the  gods.  We 
need  not  therefore  be  astonished,  when  we  hear  that  a  city 
could  be  very  seriously  embarrassed  for  want  of  sufficient 
means  to  celebrate  its  festivals  with  due  solemnity.^ 

Thus  an  almost  immeasurable  field  was  opened  for  public 
expenses  of  a  kind  hardly  known  to  modern  states.  Even 
in  cases  where  the  governments  believe  it  necessary  to  ex- 
pend something  on  public  festivals,  little  is  done  except  in 
the  capital ;  and  this  expenditure  has  never,  to  our  know- 
ledge, made  an  article  in  a  budget.  It  would  have  made 
the  very  first  in  Grecian  cities,  at  least  in  times  of  peace. 
And  he  who  can  vividly  present  those  states  to  his  mind, 
will  easily  perceive  how  many  things  must  have  combined 
to  increase  these  expenditures.  They  were  prompted  not 
by  a  mere  regard  for  the  honour  of  the  state  ;  jealousy  and 
envy  of  the  other  cities  were  of  influence  also.  And  still 
more  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  emulation  and  the  vanity  of 
those,  who  were  appointed  to  the  charge  of  the  expendi- 
tures. One  desired  to  surpass  another.  This  was  the  most 
reputable  manner  of  displaying  wealth.  And  although,  as 
far  as  we  know,  public  shows  were  not,  in  the  Grecian 
cities,  so  indispensably  the  means  of  gaining  the  favour  of 
the  people  as  at  Rome,  (probably  because  what  in  Rome 
was  originally  voluntary,  had  ever  been  considered  in 
Greece  as  one  of  the  duties  and  burdens  of  a  citizen,  which 
did  not  merit  even  thanks,)  political  ends  may  have  often 
been  of  influence  with  individuals. 

The  Grecian  temples  had,  for  the  most  part,  possessions 
of  their  own,  with  which  they  met  the  expenses  incurred  in 
the  service  of  the  god.  Their  possessions  consisted  partly  in 
votive  presents,  which,  especially  where  the  divinities  of 
health  and  prophecy  were  adored,  had  been  offered  by  the 
hopes  or  the  gratitude  of  the  suppliants  for  aid  and  counsel. 
We  know  from  several  examples,  especially  from  that  of 
the  Delphic  temple,  that  treasures  were  there  accumulated, 
of  more  value  probably  than  those  of  Loretto,  or  any  other 

'  Consult  what  Ajistotle  relates  of  Antissaeus,  Op.  ii.  p.  390. 


shrine  in  Europe.^  ut  as  they  were  sacred  to  the  gods, 
and  did  not  come  into  circulation,  they  were,  for  the  most 
part,  but  unproductive  treasures,  possessing  no  other  value 
than  what  they  received  from  the  artist.  We  could  desire 
more  accurate  information  respecting  the  administration  of 
the  treasures  of  the  temples ;  for  it  seems  hardly  credible, 
that  the  great  stores  of  gold  and  silver,  which  were  not 
wrought,  should  have  been  left  entirely  unemployed.  But 
besides  these  treasures,  the  temples  drew  a  large  part  of 
their  revenue  from  lands  ;^  which  were  not  unfrequently 
consecrated  to  their  service.  When  a  new  colonial  city  was 
built,  it  was  usual  to  devote  at  once  a  part  of  its  territory 
to  the  gods.^  But  although  these  resources  were  suflScient 
for  the  support  of  the  temple,  the  priests,  the  various  per- 
sons employed  in  the  service  of  the  temple,  and  perhaps  the 
daily  sacrifices,  yet  the  incense  and  other  expenses,  the  cele- 
bration of  the  festivals  with  all  the  costs  connected  with  it, 
still  continued  a  burden  to  be  borne  by  the  public. 

Beside  the  expenses  which  were  required  by  religion  and 
the  honour  of  the  city,  there  were  others  which  the  admin- 
istration made  necessary.  The  magistrates,  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  were  without  salaries;  but  the  state 
needed  many  inferior  servants  for  the  taxes,  the  police,  etc. ; 
and  these  must  certainly  have  been  paid.*  Add  to  this, 
that  several  of  the  duties  of  citizens  were  of  such  a  nature  that 

'  The  consequences  with  which  the  profanation  of  the  Delphic  treasures 
in  the  Sacred  war,  was  fraught  for  Greece,  may  be  learned  from  Athen.  vi. 
231,  etc. 

*  Not  only  single  fields,  but  whole  districts  were  consecrated  to  the  gods. 
Beside  the  fields  of  Cirrha,  it  was  desired  to  consecrate  the  whole  of  Phocis 
to  Apollo  of  Delphi.  Diod.  xvi.  p.  245.  Brasidas  devoted  to  Pallas  the  ter- 
ritory of  Lecythus,  which  he  had  conquered.  Thucyd.  iv.  cap.  116.  It  is  a 
mistake  to  beHeve  that  the  consecrated  land  must  have  remained  uncultivated. 
That  of  Cirrha  remained  so,  because  a  curse  rested  on  it.  Pausan.  p.  894. 
In  other  cases  it  was  used  sometimes  for  pasture  land,  especially  for  the  sa- 
cred herds  ;  Thucyd.  v.  53 ;  sometimes  it  was  tilled  ;  Thucyd.  iii.  68 ;  but  for 
the  most  part  let  for  a  rent.  Whoever  did  not  pay  the  rent,  fioffQuxntg  rdv 
Tfftevuv,  was  considered  destitute  of  honour.  Demosth.  in  Macart.  Op.  ii.  p. 
1069.  In  another  passage,  the  orator  complains  of  the  number  of  enemies 
he  had  made  by  cofiecting  these  rents  when  he  was  Demarch.  Or.  in  Eubu- 
lid.  Op.  ii.  p.  1318.  Two  contracts  for  similar  rents  have  been  preserved. 
Mazochi  Tabb.  Heracleens,  p.  145,  etc.,  and  257,  etc. 

'  Plato  de  Legg.  iv.  p.  717. 

*  But  though  the  magistrates  were  not  paid,  there  were  certain  offices 
(especially  such  as  were  connected  with  the  care  of  any  funds)  which  could 
be  made  very  productive  to  those  who  held  them.  An  example  of  this  kind 
is  found  in  Demosth.  in  Mid.  Op.  i.  p.  570. 


136 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  X. 


it  subsequently  became  necessary  to  pay  for  the  perform- 
ance of  them,  though  it  had  not  been  done  at  an  earher 
period.  To  this  class  belongs  the  duty  of  attending  in  the 
courts ;  and  the  investigation  of  the  Attic  state  will  prove 
to  us,  that  the  number  of  those  who  were  to  be  paid,  caused 
this  expense  to  be  one  of  the  heaviest. 

But  as  the  states  increased  in  power,  the  greatest  expen- 
ditures were  occasioned  by  the  military  and  naval  establish- 
ments. These  expenditures  were,  for  the  most  part, 
extraordinary ;  since  the  state  in  times  of  peace  had  no 
standing  army,  and  no  mariners  to  pay.  But  even  in  times 
of  peace,  large  appropriations  were  needed  for  the  support 
of  the  magazines  and  the  ships ;  and  unfortunately  for 
Greece,  the  common  condition  of  the  more  powerful  states 
came  at  last  to  be  that  of  war  rather  than  of  peace.  If  wars 
under  any  circumstances  are  costly,  two  causes  contributed 
to  make  them  especially  so  in  Greece.  The  first  was  the  cus- 
tom which  arose  of  employing  hired  troops.  As  long  as 
wars  were  carried  on  by  the  militia  of  the  country,  which 
required  no  pay,  the  costs  of  them  were  not  very  consider- 
able, as  each  one  served  at  his  own  expense.  But  when  hired 
troops  began  to  be  used,  every  thing  was  changed.  We 
shall  take  another  opportunity  of  showing  how  this  custom, 
by  which  the  whole  political  condition  of  Greece  was  most 
deeply  and  incurably  disordered,  continued  to  gain  ground 
from  the  first  moment  of  its  introduction.  Hence  proceeded 
the  pecuniary  embarrassment  of  so  many  Grecian  cities 
during  the  Peloponnesian  war.  The  second  leading  cause 
is  to  be  found  in  the  progress  of  naval  forces,  and  their  in- 
creasing importance  to  the  ruling  states.  The  building, 
support,  and  fitting  out  of  squadrons,  which  are  always  so 
expensive,  must  have  been  doubly  so  to  the  Greeks,  who 
were  obliged  to  import  their  timber  and  many  other  articles 
from  a  distance.  The  expense  became  still  greater,  when  the 
cities  began  to  outbid  each  other  in  the  pay  of  their  mari- 
ners ;  which  they  did,  as  soon  as  the  Spartans  were  enabled 
by  the  Persian  supplies  to  cope  in  this  matter  with  their 
rivals.^    Need  we  be  astonished,  then,  at  finding  under  such 

*  This  is  known  to  have  been  done  during  the  Peloponnesian  war  as  well 
by  the  Corinthians,  Thucyd.  i.  31,  as  by  Sparta,  which  state  received  of 
the  Persians  more  than  5000  talents  (nearly  five  million  dollars)  for  that 
purpose.     Isocrat.  de  Pace,  Op.  p.  179. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


137 


circumstances,  that  the  trierarchies,  or  contributions  of  the 
rich  towards  the  fitting  out  of  the  galleys,  were  the  most 
oppressive  of  all  the  public  burdens  ?^ 

Difierent,  therefore,  as  was  the  list  of  public  expenses 
from  that  of  modern  states,  we  still  find  points  of  agree- 
ment. We  have  now  to  inquire.  What  were  the  sources  of 
the  public  revenue  ?  What  in  particular  was  the  system  of 

taxation  ? 

There  is  but  one  state  in  Greece,  that  of  Athens,  respect- 
ing which  any  accurate  information  on  this  subject  has 
been  preserved.  It  would  be  too  hasty  an  inference  to  say, 
that  what  was  usual  in  that  city  was  usual  in  the  others. 
But  though  the  particular  regulations  may  have  been  very 
different,  a  great  general  similarity  must  certainly  have  pre- 
vailed ;  and  it  is  that  which  we  are  now  to  consider.  Such 
a  resemblance  was  a  natural  consequence  of  the  great  pre- 
ponderating power  and  political  influence  of  Athens.  In 
the  states  which  were  its  allies,  how  much  must  necessarily 
have  been  regulated  by  its  example  !  And  the  little  mform- 
ation  which ''we  are  able  to  collect  respecting  their  reve- 
nues, appears  to  prove  the  general  resemblance  beyond  a 
doubt.    Special  differences  certainly  existed. 

It  is  to  Aristotle,  once  more,  that  we  owe  a  general  view 
of  this  subject."  After  classifying  the  sources  of  revenue  m 
monarchies,  with  respect  to  the  general  no  less  than  the 
provincial  administration,^  he  continues  ;  "  The  third  kind 
of  administration,  is  that  of  free  states.  For  them,  the  prin- 
cipal source  of  revenue  is  from  the  produce  of  their  own 
soil ;  the  second  from  merchandise  and  the  markets ;  the 
third  from  the  contributions  paid  by  the  citizens  in  turn."* 

»  We  do  not  find  it  mentioned,  that  the  trierarchies,  which  were  common 


Sta^rite.  It  is  a  collection  of  examples  or  excerpta,  where  less  depends  on 
the  author  than  on  the  age  in  which  it  was  written.  Even  its  editor,  Schnei- 
der, concedes  that  it  bears  marks  of  belonging  to  the  period  of  the  Persian 
empire,  being  at  least  as  old  as  Aristotle  or  Alexander.  And  yet  Aristotle 
himself  may  have  made  such  collections ;  of  which  one  may  have  reached  us. 

» 'H  paa^iKij  and  t)  aarpaTrtKtj^  When  the  Greeks  spoke  of  an  empire,  they 
always  had  in  mind  the  empire  of  Persia.  .,,,.,.      i 

'  Tp'iTijv  is  rrjv  iro\iTiKr)v.  Tavrrjg  ik  rpar.VrJ?  fikv  vpoffoSog,  r/  airo  nov  iSaov  tv 
TV  xf^Pdi  yivoukvu)V,  elTa  aTrb  Ifnropiujv  Kai  ot'  dyutvutv,  dra  rj  diro  n^vtyKVKXiuiV, 
It  is  known  from  the  orators,  that  these  last  are  the  burdens  borne  m  turn  by 
the  rich,  XtiTovpyia,,  Demosth.  in  Leptin.  Op.  i.  p.  463.    If  the  words  h 


138 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  X. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


139 


When  we  learn,  that  these  last  were  a  sort  of  property  tax 
for  the  richer  class,  and  that  the  second  could  have  been 
nothing  but  duties  on  articles  of  consumption,  we  perceive 
at  once,  what  we  are  soon  to  prove,  that  in  the  Grecian 
states,  our  direct  and  indirect  taxes  were  known  and  intro- 
duced, though  in  technical  language  the  distinction  was 
differently  made.  The  subject  deserves  to  be  treated  with 
closer  attention. 

In  the  political  economy  of  the  moderns,  the  taxes  on 
lands  and  houses  are  considered  the  most  important  of  all 
direct  taxes.  How  far  had  the  Greeks  the  one  and  the 
other  ?  They  certainly  were  acquainted  with  both.  "  In 
Menda,"  says  Aristotle,  "  the  common  expenses  of  the  ad- 
ministration are  paid  from  the  revenue  derived  from  the 
harbours  and  duties ;  the  taxes,  on  the  contrary,  on  lands 
and  houses  are  regularly  assessed ;  but  they  are  collected 
from  those  who  are  bound  to  pay  them,  only  in  times  of  a 
great  want  of  money." ^  This  example  shows  very  clearly, 
that  the  Greeks  knew  the  practical  difference  between  direct 
and  indirect  taxes;  but  it  still  remains  doubtful,  whether 
the  tax  on  the  soil  was  a  land  tax  in  the  modern  sense,  ac- 
cording to  its  square  contents  and  quality ;  or  whether  it 
was  a  tax  on  the  raw  produce.  The  first  is  not  probable. 
We  hear  nothing  of  a  register  of  landed  estates  in  Greece  ; 
though  there  existed  such  a  one  in  the  great  empire  of 
Persia.  Where  the  taxes  are  treated  of,  the  expressions  ap- 
pear rather  to  indicate,  that  a  proportion  of  the  produce 
was  paid.  It  was  commonly  tithes,  which  were  taken  of 
fruits  and  of  cattle;  as  Aristotle  expressly  mentions  in  the 
passages  first  cited.^  In  what  degree  these  taxes  were  usual 
in  the  Grecian  cities,  is  no  where  expressly  related  ;  nor  do 
we  know  whether  they  were  levied  on  certain  estates,  or  on 
all  lands.  That  they  were  very  common,  is  hardly  doubtful, 
since  the  remark  of  Aristotle  is  a  general  one. 

Poll  taxes  were  less  frequently  levied  on  the  citizens 
(though  we   would  not  assert,  that  they  did  not  in  any 

dywvujv  are  correct,  the  public  games  and  assemblies  are  intended,  with  which 
fairs  were  commonly  connected ;  otherwise  it  would  be  natural  to  conjecture 
ayopdv  instead  of  a'ywvwv.     The  sense  remains  the  same. 

*  Aristot.  de  Re  Famil.  Op.  ii.  393.  Menda  was  a  Grecian  city  on  the 
coast  of  Macedonia,  not  far  from  Potidaea. 

'  Compare  de  Re  Famil.  ii.  1. 


degree  exist  with  respect  to  them)  than  on  the  inquilini  or 
resident  foreigners.  These  formed  in  most  of  the  Grecian 
cities  a  numerous  class  of  inhabitants,  and  were  obliged  to 
pay  for  protection,  a  sum^  which  was  sometimes  a  poll  tax, 
and  sometimes  an  impost  on  property.  We  know  with  cer- 
tainty, that  such  sums  were  paid  by  the  foreigners  at  Athens. 

However  much  the  practical  politician  may  be  excited  by 
increasing  wants  to  exert  his  inventive  powers,  the  charac- 
ter of  the  state  settles  in  a  certain  measure  the  kinds  of 
taxes.  Where  a  community  imposes  its  own  taxes,  the  di- 
rect taxes,  and  among  them  those  on  property,  will  have  the 
first  rank.  That  each  citizen,  or  rather,  that  the  richer 
citizens  (for  the  rule  does  not  of  course  apply  to  the  poorer 
classes)  should  share  in  the  public  burdens  in  proportion  to 
their  means,  is  so  natural  an  idea,  that  it  cannot  but  occur 
of  itself.  But  when  we  consider  the  taxes  on  property  as 
forming  the  chief  division,  we  must  premise  two  observa- 
tions in  connexion  with  that  remark. 

First :  The  taxes  on  property  were  not  so  regular,  that 
they  were  paid  from  year  to  year  according  to  the  same 
fixed  measure.  The  necessary  sums  were  rather  voted  as 
circumstances  required ;  which  also  decided  the  degree  of 
rigour  with  which  they  were  collected.  Of  this  we  have 
proof  in  very  many  examples  in  Demosthenes  and  others.^ 
In  times  of  peace,  whole  years  might  pass  away,  in  which 
no  such  taxes  were  required  to  be  paid  ;  while  in  others 
they  increased  so  much,  that  Isocrates  could  say,  it  was  al- 
most better  to  be  a  poor  man  than  a  rich  one  ;  because  the 
poor  were  not  exposed  to  them.^ 

Secondly  :  There  were  certain  kinds  of  expenses,  which 
were  not  estimated  at  a  fixed  amount,  but  were  too  consi- 
derable to  be  borne  by  any  but  the  opulent ;  we  mean  those 
offices  which  each  citizen  was  obliged  to  perform  in  his 
turn,  and  at  his  own  expense  (XeiTovpylat)}    To  this  class 

'  To  liiToiKiov.  The  regulations  respecting  this,  and  its  amount,  may  be 
found  in  Harpocration,  h.  v. 

^  They  were  called  in  Athens  the  ctV^opac ;  not  known,  at  least  by  that  name 
in  Athens,  before  the  Peloponnesian  war.  Boeckh  ii.  4.  No  one  will  doubt 
that  they  were  introduced  mto  other  cities,  though  under  different  names. 

'  Isocrat.  de  Pace.  Op.  p.  185. 

*  In  the  broadest  sense ;  in  so  far  as  the  word  comprehends  not  only  the 
fitting  out  of  the  ships  (rpii;papxiaO»  but  also  the  charge  of  the  chorus 
(xop»7ytai),  and  the  gymnastic  games  (yv/i»/a(r«apx*ai). 


140 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  X. 


belonged  partly  the  charge  of  the  public  festivals  and  shows, 
banquets  and  bands  of  music  connected  with  them ;  and 
partly,  at  least  in  Athens,  and  probably  in  other  maritime 
towns,  the  fitting  out  of  the  galleys.    The  first  class  of  these 
expenses,  was  by  its  nature  a  permanent  one ;  and  the  other 
was  almost,  though  not  perfectly  so.    They  were  borne  by 
the  citizens  in  rotation  ;  and  those  who  were  free  one  year, 
were  obliged  to  defray  them  the  next.    But  they,  especially 
the  first,  were  the  more  oppressive,  as  they  were  not  fixed 
at  any  certain  amount ;  but  depended  not  merely  on  the 
wants  of  the  state,  but  the  pride  of  him  who  supplied  them. 
Taxes  on  property  are  attended  with  one  great  difficulty, 
that  they  cannot  be  apportioned  out  without  a  knowledge 
of  the  fortunes  of  each  contributor.     But  they  depend  also 
more  than  any  other  on  correctness  of  moral  sentiment  and 
on  public  spirit.  Where  these  exist,  (and  they  can  no  where 
more  prevail  than  in  such  civil  communities  as  the  Grecian 
states,)  there  is  no  need  of  returns  on  the  part  of  those  who 
are  to  be  taxed,  nor  of  any  inquisition  on  the  part  of  the 
state.     Confidence  is  reposed  in  the  conscience  of  the  con- 
tributor ;  and  examples  may  be  found  in  history,  of  states 
m  which  even  a  suspicion  of  any  insincerity  was  almost  un- 
heard of  ^    In  the  Grecian  cities,  at  least  in  Athens,  very 
severe  measures  were  in  the  later  periods  made    use   of 
against  those,  who  were  suspected  of  concealing  the  true 
state  of  their  fortunes,  or  whom  it  was  desired  to  vex  in 
that  manner.    They  could  be  compelled  to  exchange  their 
property  for  the  sum  at  which  they  had  estimated  it.'    But 
in  better  times,  such  measures,  though   perhaps  permitted, 
seem  never  to  have  been  usual.    A  division  was  made  into 
classes  according  to  the  income ;  such  as  had  been  estab- 
lished in  Athens,  by  the  regulations  of  Solon.    These  classes 
presupposed  an  estimate  of  property;**   but  whether   this 
was  made  in  the  Grecian  cities  as  accurately  as  the  census  of 
the  Romans,  is  a  question  which  we  must  leave  undecided.* 

•  As  in  several  of  the  late  German  imperial  towns.  The  author  is  ac- 
quainted with  one,  m  which  the  contributions  were  thrown  into  a  box,  unex- 
amined; and  yet  the  amount  of  the  whole  was  previously  known,  with 
almost  perfect  exactness. 

^  The  dvud6(Tug.  See,  on  this  subject,  the  speech  of  Isocrates,  Op.  p.  312,  etc. 

^  ri/iiy/ia,  Demosth.  m  Aphob.  Orat.  i.  Op.  ii.  p.  3,  etc. 
In  some  of  the  cities,  great  accuracy  seems  to  have  prevailed  in  this 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


141 


The  indirect  taxes,  by  which  we  mean  the  duties  paid  on 
the  importation  and  exportation  of  articles,  as  also  on  their 
consumption,  were  probably  as  common  in  the  Grecian 
cities,  as  those  above  mentioned.  The  instance  of  the  city 
Menda,  which  we  have  already  cited,  shows  that  they  were 
preferred,  at  least  in  some  instances,  to  the  direct  taxes. 
Much  that  related  to  them,  was  decided  by  the  situation 
and  chief  employment  of  the  cities.  The  duties  were  natu- 
rally a  much  more  productive  source  of  revenue  to  the 
maritime  and  commercial  towns,  than  to  the  cities  of  the 
interior.  But  where  these  taxes  were  introduced,  they  were 
a  constant  source  of  income  ;  while  the  taxes  on  property 
were  each  time  imposed  anew.  From  this  it  naturally  re- 
sulted, that  they  were  chiefly  destined  to  meet  the  usual 
expenditures. 

Our  knowledge  of  the  organization  of  the  Grecian  cus- 
toms, is  very  imperfect.  Yet  we  cannot  doubt,  that  duties 
were  almost  universally  common.  But  they  were  most 
probably  limited  to  the  sea-ports  and  harbours;  in  connexion 
with  these,  they  are  almost  always  mentioned;^  I  know  of 
no  instance  of  customs  in  the  interior.  They  were,  ac- 
cording to  Aristotle,  levied  on  imported  and  exported  ar- 
ticles.^ In  Athens,  the  customs  are  frequently  mentioned 
by  the  orators  ;  in  Thessaly  they  formed  the  chief  source  of 
the  revenue  ;  ^  and  they  were  not  of  less  moment  in  Mace- 
donia.* When  the  Athenians  became  the  masters  of  the 
iEgean  Sea,  they  appropriated  to  themselves,  in  all  subject 
islands,  the  collecting  of  the  customs,  instead  of  the  tribute 
which  had  before  been  usual.^  The  same  was  done  with  the 
very  productive  customs  of  Byzantium,  which  all  the  com- 
merce to  the  Black  Sea  was  obliged  to  discharge/  just  as 

business.  Thus  in  Chios,  all  private  debts  were  entered  in  a  public  book,  so 
that  it  might  be  known,  what  capital  was  lent  out.  Aristot.  Op.  ii.  p.  390. 
In  the  Athenian  colony  Potidaea,  in  a  time  of  war,  when  money  was  wanting, 
every  citizen  was  obliged  to  specify  his  property  with  exactness,  and  the  con- 
tributions (€iff<i>opai)  were  apportioned  out  accordingly.  He  who  possessed  no 
property,  lerrifia  ovBkvt  paid  a  poll  tax ;  his  person  being  reckoned  as  a  capital 
of  two  minse,  (about  thirty  dollars,)  he  paid  the  tax  due  on  such  a  sum. 
Anstot.  1.  c.  '  Hence  the  phrase  Xmhaq  KapTrovaOai,  to  collect 

the  customs  in  the  harbours,  Demosthen.  i.  15. 

Aristot.  1.  c.  rd  turaytoyifia  koi  rd  i^aytJytfxa.  '  Demosth.  1.  c. 

They  were  commonly  rented  out  in  that  country  for  twenty  talents  j 
which  sum  Callistratus  knew  how  to  double.    Aristot.  Op.  ii.  p.  393. 
'  Thucyd.  iv.  28.  •  Demosth.  Op.  i.  p.  475. 


142 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[CHAr.  X. 


the  commerce  to  the  East  sea  has  hitherto  been  obliged  to 
pay  a  tribute  in  the  Sound.  This  comparison  is  the  more 
just,  as  the  duties  of  Byzantium,  no  less  than  those  in  the 
Sound,  have  been  the  occasion  even  of  a  war.^ 

These  examples,  of  which  the  number  could  easily  be  in- 
creased, are  quite  sufficient  to  prove,  that  duties  w^ere  very 
generally  exacted  in  the  sea-ports.  The  principle  accord ino; 
to  which  the  customs  were  regulated,  had  nothing  in  view 
but  the  increase  of  the  public  revenue ;  and  no  design  was 
connected  with  them,  of  encouraging  and  directing  domestic 
industry.  At  least  we  have  never  been  able  to  find  any 
hint  to  that  effect.  But  the  tariff  seems  to  have  been  very 
different  in  the  several  cities,  and  for  the  different  articles  of 
merchandise.  At  Byzantium,  the  duty  was  ten  per  cent,  on 
the  value  of  the  wares.*^  The  Athenians,  on  the  contrary, 
when  they  imposed  duties  in  the  harbours  of  their  allies 
during  the  Peloponnesian  war,  exacted  only  five  per  cent.^ 
In  Athens  itself,  there  were,  at  least  in  the  time  of  Demos- 
thenes, several  articles  which  paid  a  duty  of  but  two  per 
cent.*  To  this  class  belonged  all  corn  introduced  into 
Athens;^  and  several  other  objects,  such  as  fine  woollen 
garments  and  vessels  of  silver.^ 

We  distinguish  in  our  system  of  finances  between  duties 
on  importation  and  exportation,  and  taxes  on  domestic 
consumption.'^  It  may  be  asked,  if  this  was  also  the  case 
in  Greece?  I  do  not  doubt  that  it  was ;  but  in  the  Grecian 
cities,  as  in  Rome  and  perhaps  in  the  whole  of  the  ancient 
world,  these  taxes  were  imposed  in  but  one  very  simple  form. 
They  were  connected  with  the  markets.  Whatever  was  there 
offered  for  sale,  paid  a  duty ;  and  hence  this  duty  is  men- 
tioned only  with  reference  to  the  markets.^  And  I  find  no 
proof,  that  the  system  of  taxing  consumption  was  carried  so 
far  in  any  ancient  state,  as  it  has  been  in  several  modern 
countries.^ 

'  Namely,  between  Byzantium  and  Rhodes. 

*  Demosth.  Op.  i.  p.  475.  »  Thucyd.  vii.  28. 

*  This  is  the  nivrnicoaToXoyog  aTroypa^,),  the  tariff  of  the  iiftieth  penny. 
Demosth.  m  Mid  Op.  i.  p.  558.  ^  Demosth.  in  Near.  Op.  ii.  p.  1353 

Demosth.  m  Mid.  Op.  i.  p.  568,  enumerates  several. 

'  Such  as  the  excise,  licences,  etc. 

"  In  Anstot.  li.  p.  388.  ij  dvb  riov  kut^  yrjv  Ti  Kai  dyopaitov  rikStv  irgdaoSog. 
Hence  the  expression ;  rdg  dyopdc  KapnovaOai,  to  collect  the  revenue  from  the 
markets.     Demosth.  Olynth.  i.  Op.  i.  p.  15. 

» In  Babylon,  there  existed  an  antiquated  law  which  was  renewed  by  the 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


143 


Beside  the  taxes  already  enumerated,  there  were  other 
particular  ones  on  various  articles  of  luxury.  Thus  in  Lycia 
a  tax  was  paid  for  wearing  false  hair;^  in  Ephesus,  orna- 
ments of  gold  were  prohibited,  and  the  women  ordered  to 
give  them  up  to  the  state.  Examples  are  preserved  by 
Aristotle,  where  in  cases  of  necessity,  single  cities  adopted 
various  extraordinary  measures,  such  as  the  sale  of  the  public 
estates,^  the  sale  of  the  privilege  of  citizenship,  taxes  on 
several  professions  and  employments,^  as  of  soothsayers  and 
quacks,  and  monopolies,  of  which  the  state  possessed  itself 
for  a  season. 

In  all  the  Grecian  cities,  the  indirect  taxes,  especially  the 
duties,  were  most  probably  farmed.  The  custom  of  farming 
the  revenue  prevailed  in  a  much  greater  degree  in  several 
of  the  monarchical  states  of  antiquity ;  in  the  Grecian  re- 
publics, it  seems  to  have  been  restricted  to  the  indirect 
taxes.  It  is  generally  known,  that  in  Athens  the  duties  were 
farmed ;  but  the  same  was  the  case  in  Byzantium,  in  Mace- 
donia, and  in  other  places.^  Demosthenes  distinguishes 
three  classes  of  persons  who  were  interested  in  this  transac- 
tion ;  those  who  rented  this  branch  of  the  revenue ;  their 
bondsmen  ;  and  the  inspectors  and  the  receivers.^  It  would 
be  superfluous  to  speak  of  the  great  evils  of  this  arrange- 
ment ;  but  has  it  not  been  preserved  by  much  larger  states 
in  modern  Europe  ? 

One  important  question  still  remains :  In  the  Grecian  ci- 
ties, who  had  the  right  of  fixing  the  taxes?  The  political 
science  of  the  moderns  has  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  most 
important  points,  as  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  a  free  con- 
stitution, that  the  government  should  not  be  permitted  to 
impose  taxes  without  the  consent  of  the  people,  given  di- 

goveraor  appointed  by  Alexander,  and  which  required  that  a  tithe  should  be 
paid  of  every  thing  brought  into  the  city.    Aristot.  Op.  ii.  p.  395. 

'  Aristot.  (Econ.  ii.  Op.  ii.  p.  385. 

'  By  the  Byzantians.  Aristot.  1.  c.  p.  389.  That  which  foUows  is  also  re- 
lated by  him  in  the  same  place. 

'  A.  general  income  tax  of  10  per  cent,  on  all  employments,  was  laid  by  king 
Tachus  in  Egypt,  at  the  instance  of  Chabrias.  Aristot.  1.  c.  p.  394.  Though 
executed  in  Egypt,  the  idea  was  that  of  a  Greek ;  and  Pitt  must  resign  his 
claim  to  the  invention  of  the  Income  tax. 

*  See  the  passages  cited  above,  which  prove  this. 

'  Demosth.  Op.  i.  p.  745.  tbKoq  n  7rptd/i€voc,  ^  iyyvf\<rnivdog^  ri  tKXeywv. 
Those  who  rented  the  taxes  of  the  state,  were  of  course  obliged  to  procure 
safe  bondsmen. 


144 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  X. 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  THE  GREEKS. 


145 


rectly,  or  by  consent  of  its  deputies.  In  most  of  the  ancient 
republics,  the  same  custom  probably  prevailed  ;  yet  it  is 
remarkable  that  no  particular  value  was  ever  set  upon  this 
privilege ;  and  much  less  was  it  considered  a  criterion  of 
political  liberty.  The  whole  system  of  taxation,  we  have 
already  remarked,  was  not  viewed  from  the  same  elevated 
point  which  is  now  taken  ;  nor  can  this  principle  be  fully 
developed,  except  where  the  representative  system  is  intro- 
duced. But  properly  speaking,  the  whole  subject  was  con- 
sidered by  the  Greeks  from  a  very  different  side.  Their 
magistrates  were  bound  to  acknowledge  the  obligation  of 
laying  their  accounts  before  the  people.  This  was  the  charac- 
teristic of  freedom.^  Where  this  right  is  preserved  by  the 
people,  it  is  of  much  less  importance  by  whom  the  taxes 
are  imposed. 

But  this  question  hardly  admits  of  a  general  answer  in 
the  Grecian  cities.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  difference 
of  constitutions  produced  differences  in  this  matter;  but 
if  from  the  want  of  documents  this  is  only  a  conjecture, 
it  is  on  the  other  hand  certain,  that  the  difference  of  the 
taxes  must  have  produced  such  a  variety. 

The  regular  and  abiding  taxes  were  fixed  by  laws ;  which 
in  part  were  expressly  called  ancient  laws.^  The  sum  which 
was  allotted  in  Athens  for  the  annual  expense  of  the  public 
sacrifices,  was  fixed  by  the  laws  of  Solon  at  six  talents.' 
For  this  purpose,  no  other  appropriations  were  needed. 
The  tariffs  of  the  duties  and  taxes  on  consumption  were  in 
like  manner  permanent  laws,  which,  as  their  very  names  in- 
dicate,* were  doubtless  granted  by  the  people ;  who  of 
course  had  the  right  of  making  alterations  in  them.  Those 
public  charges,  which  were  borne  in  turn,  the  trierarchies 
and  the  providing  of  the  chorus,  were  also  established  by 
ancient  laws;^  although  these  offices,  especially  the  first, 
were,  from  their  very  nature,  much  influenced  by  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  times ;  and  hence  they  underwent  greater 
and  more  frequent  changes  than  any  other  imposts.  That 
these  regulations  and  their  changes  could  not  be  made  with- 
out the  consent  of  the  people,  will  not  be  doubted  by  any 

'  See  above,  p.  115.  '  Demosth.  Op.  i.  p.  462. 

'  See  Lysias  m  Nicomach.  Or.  Or.  v.  p.  856. 

*  No/xoi  TfXijjvtKoi.    Demosth.  i.  p.  732.  *  Demosth.  i.  p.  462. 


one,  who  knows  that  every  thing  which  the  Greeks  called  a 
law,  vofio^,  could  proceed  from  no  other  fountain. 

But  what  were  the  regulations  respecting  those  extraordi- 
nary imposts,  which  were  hardly  less  than  permanent,  those 
taxes  on  property,  which  we  comprehend  under  the  name  of 
tribute  (elffipopai)  1  That  these  should  have  been  fixed  ex- 
clusively by  the  people,  seems  so  natural  in  states  where  the 
highest  authority  is  possessed  by  a  popular  assembly,  that  it 
may  be  thought  superfluous  to  suggest  this  question.  Yet  we 
know  that  it  was  not  so  in  Rome;  where  the  taxes  were  fixed, 
not  by  the  people,  but  solely  by  the  senate.  But  in  Athens, 
as  we  may  learn  from  any  one  of  the  political  orations  of 
Demosthenes,  the  taxes  needed  always  to  be  confirmed  by 
the  people.  It  would  be  too  hasty  to  infer  from  Athens, 
that  the  same  was  true  of  all  the  other  Grecian  states.  But 
wherever  the  financial  regulations  of  the  other  states  are 
mentioned,  (unless  they  were  in  subjection  to  a  tyrant,^)  it 
is  always  done  in  expressions  which  authorize  the  conclusion, 
that  the  consent  of  the  people  or  the  assembly  of  the  citizens 
was  necessary.^ 

So  much  the  greater  variety  seems  to  have  prevailed  in 
the  administration  of  the  public  revenue,  not  only  in  the 
several  states,  but  also  at  different  periods  in  the  same  state. 
Those  places  and  offices  which  were  connected  with  that 
administration,  were  naturally  the  objects  of  the  greatest 
competition ;  and  this  alone  would  be  sufficient  to  explain 
the  changes  which  were  made.  But  must  not  the  difference 
of  the  constitutions  have  exercised  its  influence  ?  In  states, 
of  which  certain  families,  distinguished  for  their  wealth  and 
descent,  had  made  themselves  the  leaders,  what  could  be  ex- 
pected, but  that  they  should  obtain  the  management  of  the 
public  money  ?  In  the  two  principal  cities  of  Greece,  the 
most  remarkable  difference  is  perceptible.    At  Athens,  the 

*  Where  tyrants  had  possessed  themselves  of  the  government,  they  imposed 
taxes  at  their  own  pleasure,  as  they  were  not  vTrivOvvoi-,  they  also  adopted 
various  artifices  to  increase  their  revenue,  such  as  debasing  the  coin,  etc.,  of 
which  Aristotle,  (Econ.  L.  ii.,  has  preserved  various  examples.  But  where 
they  desired  to  preserve  an  appearance  of  decency,  as  Dionysius  I.  in  Syra- 
cuse, who  in  other  respects  took  so  many  liberties,  this  matter  was  laid 
by  them  before  the  UKXriaia.  Aristot.  1.  c. 

^  In  the  examples  which  Aristot..  1.  c.  cites  of  Clazomene,  Potidaea,  and  other 
places,  his  phrase  is  l\prj<pi(TavTo,  or  sometimes  vofiov  lOtvro,  which,  it  is  well 
known,  can  be  understood  only  of  the  decrees  of  the  people. 


146 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


fCHAP, 


XI 


JUDICIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 


147 


\ 


council  of  five  hundred  had  the  care  of  the  public  money ; 
in  Sparta,  this  had  been  secured  by  the  Ephori.  A  great 
difference  may  be  supposed  to  have  prevailed  in  the  other 
Grecian  cities ;  certainly  with  respect  to  the  persons  who 
held  the  offices  of  collectors  and  accountants.  But  we  have 
almost  no  historical  information  respecting  any  place  but 
Athens. 

Of  all  forms  of  government,  those  of  free  cities  are  per- 
haps the  least  adapted  to  the  developing  of  an  artificial 
system  of  finances.  For  in  them  the  wants,  and  the  means  of 
satisfying  those  wants,  are  commonly  very  simple.  Changes 
are  difficult ;  for  they  presuppose  the  consent  of  the  com- 
monalty. They  who  propose  them,  can  hardly  expect 
thanks ;  but  rather  hatred,  and  even  persecution.  Hence 
ancient  usage  is  preserved  as  much  as  possible ;  and  when 
extraordinary  wants  occur,  recourse  is  had  to  extraordinary 
measures,  concerted  for  the  moment,  rather  than  to  any 
change  in  the  existing  institutions.  It  is  different  in  exten- 
sive monarchies,  where  every  thing  moves  more  firmly  and 
more  regularly ;  and  though  their  practice  is  not  so  much 
founded  on  scientific  views  as  on  certain  maxims,  still  it  is 
in  them  that  an  artificial  system  of  finances  can  be  formed. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  JUDICIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Unlike  the  regulations  of  our  modern  states,  the  judiciary 
department  did  not  form  in  Greece  a  distinct,  independent 
branch  of  the  constitution.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  so  in- 
timately connected  with  the  rest,  that  it  can  with  difficulty 
be  made  a  separate  object  of  investigation.  Hardly  any 
subject  in  Grecian  antiquities  is  so  intricate,  or  so  difficult 
of  explanation  ;  and  yet  without  a  knowledge  of  it,  no  cor- 
rect view  of  the  ancient  states  can  possibly  be  formed.  Our 
present  object  is,  to  develope  the  general  character  of  the 
judicial  institutions,  without  entering  into  particulars  re- 


specting the  organization  of  the  Attic  courts.  All  that  we 
have  to  say  upon  this  subject,  will  find  a  place  in  our  in- 
quiries concerning  that  state. 

The  want  of  accounts  is  the  chief  but  not  the  only  source 
of  the  difficulty,  which  attends  this  investigation  with  respect 
to  every  state  but  Athens.  From  the  want  of  uniformity, 
as  well  as  the  foreign  character  of  many  of  the  regulations, 
it  would  be  arduous  to  take  a  general  survey  of  the  subject, 
even  if  the  historical  documents  were  abundant.  To  gain  a 
correct  view  of  it,  some  attention  must  be  paid  to  its  history. 

The  judicial  institutions  of  the  Greeks  were  the  creation 
of  time  and  circumstances.  The  form,  therefore,  which 
they  eventually  assumed,  could  not  well  correspond  to  the 
requisitions  of  a  theory.  We  are  forced  to  content  ourselves 
on  many  points  with  saying  that  it  was  so ;  without  being 
able  to  give  any  satisfactory  reasons  why  it  was  so. 

The  judicial  institutions  of  a  nation  proceed  from  very 
simple  beginnings.  Where  they  are  left  to  be  developed  by 
circumstances  and  the  necessities  of  the  times,  they  cannot 
but  become  more  and  more  intricate ;  since  with  the  pro- 
gress of  culture,  new  relations  arise,  both  at  liome  and  with 
foreign  countries.  In  the  heroic  age,  kings  sat  on  the  tri- 
bunals of  justice,  though  even  then  arbitrators  were  not 
unusual.  There  existed  at  that  time  no  written  laws ;  ques- 
tions were  decided  by  prescription,  and  good  common 
sense,  directed  by  a  love  of  justice. 

When  nations  begin  to  emerge  from  the  rude  condition 
of  savages,  the  first  necessity  which  is  felt,  is  that  of  personal 
security,  and  next,  the  security  of  property.  National  legis- 
lation has  always  commenced  with  the  criminal  code  and  the 
police  laws ;  the  rights  of  citizens  were  defined  more  slowly, 
and  at  a  later  period ;  because  it  was  not  sooner  necessary. 
The  oldest  courts  of  justice  were  established  very  early, 
probably  in  the  times  of  the  kings.  Their  immediate  object 
was  to  pass  judgment  on  the  crime  of  murder,  and  other 
heinous  offences.  This  was  the  case  with  the  Areopagus, 
the  most  ancient  court  with  which  the  Greeks  were  ac- 
quainted ;  and  others  were  of  almost  as  great  an  age. 

The  royal  governments  passed  away;  and  the  popular  as- 
semblies took  their  place.  The  existing  courts  of  justice  were 
then  by  no  means  abolished ;  although  in  the  progress  of 

L   2 


m 


148 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XI. 


time,  and  amidst  the  revolutions  in  the  forms  of  government, 
they  could  not  but  undergo  various  modifications. 

In  the  states  of  modern  Europe,  the  form  of  the  judicial 
institutions  v^as  in  a  great  measure  the  result  of  the  form  of 
the  feudal.  In  the  latter  there  were  different  degrees  of 
fealty  and  submission ;  and  hence  arose  the  principle,  that 
no  man  can  be  tried  by  any  but  his  peers.  Thus  a  differ- 
ence in  the  courts  was  necessarily  produced.  The  immediate 
vassal  of  the  crown  recognised  only  those  for  his  judges,  who 
stood  in  the  same  rank  with  himself,  and  owed  fealty  to  the 
same  master.  The  freeman  and  the  villain  could  not  stand 
before  the  same  tribunal. 

The  same  principle,  that  a  man  must  be  tried  by  his  peers, 
prevailed  among  the  Greeks.  But  its  application  must  have 
produced  very  different  results.  The  community  consisted  of 
citizens,  who  either  were  or  claimed  to  be  equal.  It  discussed 
all  affairs  relating  to  itself,  and  hence  actions  at  law  among 
the  rest.  Thus  the  common  assembly  performed  the  office  of 
judges;  and  the  foundation  of  the  popular  courts  of  justice 
was  laid.  A  political  notion  now  prevailed,  a  notion  never 
adopted  in  our  modern  constitutions ;  that  it  was  essential 
for  a  citizen  to  take  a  part  in  the  administration  of  justice. 
Even  in  those  of  our  modern  states  which  in  so  many  things 
resemble  the  Grecian,  the  German  imperial  cities,  this  idea 
could  never  have  been  suggested  and  applied.  They  had 
adopted  the  laws  of  an  ancient  nation,  written  in  an  ancient 
language ;  and  to  understand  them,  much  learning  was  re- 
quired, of  which  not  every  one  could  be  possessed.  It  was 
not  so  in  Greece.  The  laws  were  in  the  language  of  the 
country ;  and  although  their  number  gradually  increased, 
they  were  still  accessible  to  all.  Neither  was  it  necessary  to 
retain  them  in  memory,  and  have  them  always  present  to 
the  mind.  The  orator  during  his  speech,  had  a  reader  at 
his  side  with  a  copy  of  them.  Whenever  he  referred  to  any 
law,  it  was  read  aloud ;  as  is  proved  by  a  multitude  of  ex- 
amples in  Demosthenes  and  others.  Every  thing  was, 
however,  transacted  orally.  The  judges  were  not  obliged 
to  peruse  written  documents ;  they  listened,  and  gave  in 
their  votes. 

All  this  appears  very  simple,  and  easy  to  be  understood. 
And  yet  the  judicial  institutions  of  Greece,  if  we  should  form 


JUDICIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 


149 


^ 


our  opinion  from  one  state,  were  so  confused,  that  it  is  dif- 
ficult for  the  most  learned  antiquarians  to  find  their  way  out 
of  the  labyrinth.  The  greatest  errors  are  made  by  those, 
who,  forgetting  that  the  institutions  in  question  were  not 
formed  systematically,  but  practically  with  the  progress  of 
time,  endeavour  to  find  the  means  of  explanation  in  specu- 
lative ideas. 

The  first  and  most  important  diflficulty  is  presented  when 
we  attempt  to  fix  the  characteristic  difference  between  the 
public  and  private  courts.  This  difference  was  not  only 
general  in  the  existing  states,  but  was  adopted  by  Plato 
himself  in  his  sketch  of  a  perfect  colony.^  These  two  classes 
were  so  distinctly  separated,  that  diflferent  expressions  were 
appropriated,  not  only  for  the  general,  but  even  the  par- 
ticular relations  of  the  one  and  the  other.^ 

Certain  general  ideas,  according  to  which  Plato  makes 
the  distinction,  lay  at  the  bottom  of  this  division.  "  One 
class  of  judicial  processes,"  says  he,^  "  is  formed  of  the  suits 
which  one  private  man,  complaining  of  injustice,  brings 
against  another.  The  second  class,  on  the  contrary,  is,  when 
the  state  believes  itself  injured  by  one  of  the  citizens,  or  when 
a  citizen  comes  forward  to  its  assistance."  According  to  this 
explanation,  nothing  would  seem  simpler,  than  the  diflference 
between  public  and  private  processes.  But  if  we  compare 
the  objects  comprehended  under  each  of  the  two  classes,  we 
shall  find  many  things  enumerated  as  aflfairs  of  the  state, 
which  to  us  do  not  seem  to  belong  to  this  class.^  Of  this, 
two  causes  may  be  mentioned. 

The  first  is  the  view  which  the  Greeks  entertained  of  the 
relation  of  the  individual  citizen  to  the  state.  The  person 
of  the  citizen  was  highly  valued;  and  could  not  but  be  highly 
valued,  because  the  whole  personal  condition  was  aflPected  by 
the  possession  of  citizenship.    An  injury  done  to  a  private 

*  Plato  de  Legg.  L.  vi.  vol.  iv.  p.  282. 

^  A  public  accusation  was  called  ypa(pij  and  Karriyopia,  to  accuse  any  one 
SnoKiiv^  to  be  accused  <pivyuv  Ttjv  ypa<pr]v.  A  private  suit  was  called  SIkij,  to 
bring  an  action  liadyHv  and  c/ff^cpftv  nvl  SiKtiv,  to  be  defendant  b^iiXtiv  rivi 
SiKTiv.     Such  were  the  expressions  at  least  in  Athens. 

'  Plato  1.  c. 

*  In  Athens,  e.  g.,  there  belonged  to  this  class,  besides  several  other  offences, 
murder,  intentional  wounds,  adultery,  etc.  The  public  and  private  processes 
are  enumerated  in  Sigonius  de  Repub.  Athen.  L.  iii.,  and  may  be  found  also 
in  Potter's  Archteol.  Grcec.  The  subject  is  investigated  by  Otto :  De  Athe- 
niensium  Actionibus  forensibusj  Specimen  1.  ch.  ii.  Leipsiae,  1820. 


150 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XI. 


citizen,  was  therefore  in  some  measure  an  injury  inflicted  on 
the  state;  and  so  far,  almost  every  injustice  suffered  by  the 
individual,  was  a  public  concern.  Yet  a  difference  existed 
even  here,  according  to  the  degree  of  the  injury ;  nor  was 
it  indifferent,  whether  the  rights  of  person,  or  only  those  of 
property,  had  been  violated. 

A  second  circumstance  also  had  its  influence ;  prescrip- 
tion  for  the  most  part  determined  what  was  a  crime  against 
the  public,  and  what  was  but  a  private  concern.  But  what 
had  once  been  established  by  prescription,  was  ever  after 
valid  as  a  law.  Yet  who  can  discover  all  the  causes,  perhaps 
frequently  accidental,  by  which  various  suits  came  to  be  con- 
sidered, in  one  age  or  another,  as  affairs  of  the  pubHc? 

It  would  be  ineffectual  to  attempt  to  draw  very  accurately 
the  line  of  division  according  to  the  subjects.  The  most  nu- 
merous and  the  most  important,  but  not  all  criminal  cases, 
were  regarded  as  public  concerns.  This  class  embraced  not 
merely  offences  against  the  state ;  though  this  idea  lay  at 
the  foundation.  We  must  rather  be  content  with  saying, 
that  prescription  had  caused  certain  offences  to  be  regarded 
as  public,  and  others  as  private  matters.  The  regulations 
respecting  them  were,  however,  in  the  Attic  law  very 
exact ;  and  it  was  firmly  established,  which  processes  be- 
longed to  the  state,  and  which  to  individuals. 

The  character  of  the  two  classes  was  essentially  distin- 
guished by  this ;  that  in  the  public  affairs,  a  complaint  might 
be  made  by  any  citizen ;  and  in  the  private,  it  could  be 
made  only  by  the  injured  person,  or  his  nearest  relation;* 
for  in  the  one  case,  the  state  or  the  whole  community  was 
regarded  as  the  injured  party ;  in  the  other,  only  the  in- 
dividual. 

But  whoever  brought  the  suit,  it  was  necessary  in  private 
and  public  concerns  for  the  complainant  to  enter  his  com- 
plaint before  a  magistrate,  and  definitely  state  the  offence 
which  he  charged  against  the  accused.  The  magistrate,  be- 
fore whom  the  suit  was  thus  commenced,  was  now  obliged 
to  prepare  the  action,  so  that  it  could  be  submitted  to  the 
judges.  These  judges  were  either  the  whole  community,  or 
some  particular  courts,  which  may  perhaps  be  best  denom- 
mated,  committees  of  the  people.    For  the  tribunals  consisted 

'  See  the  proofs  in  Sigonius,  1.  c. 


JUDICIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 


151 


for  the  most  part  of  very  numerous  assemblies,  the  members 
of  which  were  selected  from  the  citizens  by  lot,  and  were 
required  to  be  thirty  years  old,  of  a  good  reputation,  and 
not  indebted  to  the  state.  They  were  sworn  to  do  their 
duty  ;  they  listened  to  the  orators,  both  the  accusers  and  the 
defendants,  to  whom  a  limited  time  was  appointed  ;  the  wit- 
nesses were  examined,  and  the  affair  so  far  brought  to  a  close, 
that  the  court  could  pronounce  its  sentence  of  guilty  or  not 
guilty.^  In  the  first  case,  the  nature  of  the  punishment  re- 
mained to  be  settled.  Where  this  was  fixed  by  law,  sen- 
tence was  immediately  passed  ;  did  the  nature  of  the  offence 
render  that  impossible,  the  defendant  was  permitted  to  esti- 
mate the  punishment,  of  which  he  believed  himself  deserv- 
ing ;  and  the  court  then  decided.    . 

Those  courts  were  therefore  similar  both  in  their  organ- 
ization and  design  to  our  juries ;  with  this  difference,  that 
the  latter  are  with  us  but  twelve  in  number,  while  the  former 
were  not  unfrequently  composed  of  several  hundreds.  And 
this  is  not  astonishing,  for  they  occupied  the  place  of  the 
whole  community,  or  might  be  regarded  as  committees  of 
the  same ;  for  when  suits  began  to  grow  frequent,  the  com- 
munity could  not  always  be  assembled.  But  where  the 
members  that  constituted  the  tribunal  were  so  numerous,  as 
in  the  Helisea  at  Athens,  it  is  hardly  credible,  that  every  ac- 
tion was  tried  before  the  whole  assembly.  It  is  much  more 
probable,  especially  when  suits  were  multipled,  that  the  same 
court  of  judicature  had  several  divisions,  in  which  the  trial 
of  several  causes  could  proceed  simultaneously.^ 

As  a  difference  was  made  between  private  and  public  ac- 
tions, we  might  expect  to  find  different  tribunals  for  the  one 
and  the  other.  Yet  this  was  not  the  case ;  suits  of  both 
kinds  could  be  entered  in  the  same  courts.  The  difference 
must  therefore  have  lain  in  the  methods  of  trial  and  the  legal 
remedies,^  which  the  two  parties  could  employ.  We  are 
astonished  to  find,  that  the  rules  respecting  what  suits  should 

'  This  was  done  in  Athens  partly  by  votes  written  on  small  tablets,  and 
partly  by  white  and  black  beans. 

*  We  would  not  say,  that  all  trials  were  necessarily  brought  before  those 
courts.  In  Athens  the  police  officers  had  a  jurisdiction  of  their  own;  and 
affairs  belonging  to  their  department  appear  to  have  been  immediately  decided 
by  them. 

'  As,  e.  g.,  the  Trapaypa^i),  the  vTrwfioaia,  and  Others,  in  the  pubHc  trials. 
Sigon.  1.  c.  iii.  c.  4. 


U2 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  XI. 


JUDICIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 


IbS 


come  before  each  particular  court  were  so  uncertain,  that  it 
would  be  vain  for  us  to  attempt  to  settle  any  general  prin- 
ciples on  the  subject.  But  at  this  moment  we  have  in 
England  an  example,  which  shows  how  vain  it  is  to  expect 
exact  regulations,  where  courts  of  justice  have  been  formed 
and  enlarged  by  circumstances.  Criminal  cases,  it  is  true 
belong  exclusively  to  the  court  of  the  King  s  Bench ;  but  it 
shares  civil  actions  with  the  court  of  Common  Pleas,  and  the 
court  of  Exchequer,  in  such  a  manner,  that,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, certain  classes  of  suits  cannot  be  said  to  belong 
exclusively  to  either  of  these  tribunals. 

Our  remarks  thus  far  on  the  organization  of  the  courts 
apply  immediately  to  Athens  ;  but  they  will,  without  doubt, 
admit  of  a  much  wider  application  to  the  other  Grecian 
cities.  Yet  on  one  point  there  existed  a  remarkable  differ- 
ence. Though  the  popular  tribunals  were  generally  intro- 
duced, they  did  not  prevail  in  every  state.  For  if  I  under- 
stand Aristotle  rightly,  there  were  no  popular  tribunals  in 
Sparta,  but  all  processes  were  there,  as  in  Carthage,  decided 
by  magistrates.^  If  Sparta  had  had  such  courts,  would  they 
not  have  been  mentioned?  But  when  Aristotle  says  in 
general,  that  it  is  the  leading  characteristic  of  a  democracy, 
that  the  citizens  should  be  the  judges  of  one  another,^  may 
we  not  infer,  and  is  it  not  evident  from  the  nature  of  things, 
that  popular  tribunals  disappeared,  wherever  the  sway  of  the 
few  was  established  ? 

The  example  of  Athens  shows  in  a  remarkable  manner 
how  the  institution  of  these  popular  tribunals  could  affect 
the  whole  character  of  a  state.  Such  could  be  the  case  in 
Athens,  where  the  greatest  extent  was  given  to  the  public 
trials,  by  permitting  any  who  desired,  to  appear  as  accusers. 
I  he  whole  organization  of  the  Grecian  city  governments 
leads  us  to  belieye,  that  most  of  the  other  cities  had  popular 
tribunals,  which,  without  having  exactly  the  same  form, 
must  have  been  similar  to  those  of  Athens.  Such  tribunals 
must  have  existed  m  Argos,  before  the  introduction  of  ostra- 
cism, and  m  Syracuse  before  the  similar  method  of  banish- 

st^d  of  allsurt^T  Hu^  nr  ^"«^5^'^»'*-     ['  ^'^^"^  ^^  '^'^  V^'^S^  to  be  under- 
Svate  sd"  ?    '  ^'^'  '''  "'^^'^"^  ''  '^'  °^^^^  ^^-^t  ^«e  ofihe  word,  only 
^  Aristot.  Polit.  vi.  2. 


ment  by  petalism  came  into  vogue.  But  whether  the  public 
processes  embraced  elsewhere  as  many  subjects  as  at  Athens, 
and  as  many  things,  which  to  us  seem  to  regard  the  private 
citizen  alone,  is  a  question  which  we  cannot  decide,  for 
want  of  information. 

This  point  has  been  entirely  overlooked  by  those  who 
have  written  on  the  judicial  institutions  of  Greece ;  for  they 
had  Athens  only  in  view,  and  treated  the  subject  more  as  one 
of  jurisprudence  than  of  politics.  And  yet  it  is  of  all  the  most 
important.  The  more  limited  was  the  number  of  public 
suits,  the  smaller  was  the  possibility  of  instituting  them,  un- 
less some  personal  injury  had  previously  been  sustained. 
In  the  list  of  public  offences  at  Athens,  there  were  many, 
which,  by  their  very  nature,  were  indefinite.  Hence  it  was 
easy  to  bring  a  public  action  against  almost  any  one.  We 
need  but  think  of  an  age  of  corruption,  to  understand  how 
Athens,  after  the  Peloponnesian  war,  could  teem  with  the 
brood  of  sycophants,  against  whom  the  orators  are  so  loud 
in  their  complaints ;  and  whom  all  the  measures,  first  adopt- 
ed in  consequence  of  the  magnitude  of  the  evil,  all  the 
danger  and  punishments  to  which  false  accusers  were  ex- 
posed, were  never  sufficient  to  restrain. 

Were  other  cities,  at  least  the  democratic  ones,  in  as  bad 
a  condition  as  Athens  ?  Here  we  are  deserted  by  history ; 
which  has  preserved  for  us  almost  nothing  respecting  the 
extent  of  the  public  processes  and  the  popular  tribunals. 
But  if  in  Athens  several  adventitious  causes,  lying  partly  in 
the  national  character,  and  partly  in  the  political  power  of 
Athens,  (for  the  importance  of  state  trials  increases  with  the 
importance  of  the  state,)  contributed  to  multiply  this  class 
of  processes ;  it  by  no  means  follows,  that  the  number  was 
much  smaller  in  most  of  the  other  Grecian  cities.  Popular 
tribunals  are  the  sources  of  political  revolutions ;  and  what 
states  abounded  in  them  more  than  the  Grecian  ?  The  man 
of  influence,  always  an  object  of  envy,  was  the  most  exposed 
to  accusations,  where  it  was  so  easy  to  find  a  ground  of  ac- 
cusation ;  but  the  man  of  influence  had  the  greatest  resources 
without  the  precincts  of  the  court.  He  with  his  party,  if  he 
is  conscious  of  possessing  sufficient  strength,  has  recourse  to 
arms,  and  instead  of  suffering  himself  to  be  banished  from 
the  city,  prefers  to  terminate  the  action  by  driving  away  his 


154 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XII. 


enemies.  Were  we  more  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
history  of  the  numberless  political  revolutions  in  Greece 
how  often  would  this  same  succession  of  events  recur  ?  But 
though  we  are  not  always  able  to  establish  them  by  histori- 
cal evidence,  they  cannot  on  the  whole  be  doubted;  and 
they  distinctly  exhibit  the  close  connexion  which  existed 
between  the  states  and  their  judicial  institutions. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


Though  wars  were  so  frequent  in  Greece,  the  art  of  war 
did  not  make  any  considerable  advances.  The  constitutions 
and  the  whole  political  condition  opposed  too  many  obsta- 
cles ;  and  war  never  became  a  science,  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word,  till  standing  armies  were  introduced.  This  has 
already  been  satisfactorily  proved  by  history.  There  were 
some  individual  commanders  of  great  merit,  who  did  all 
that  talents  could  do ;  but  all  that  they  effected  was  per- 
sonal. Besides,  the  extent  of  states  sets  limits  to  improve- 
ment. These  bounds  cannot  be  accurately  marked,  where 
genius  and  circumstances  exercise  so  much  influence ;  but 
the  absolute  strength  must  also  necessarily  be  considered. 
The  advancement  and  perfecting  of  the  art  of  war  require 
experiments  on  so  large  a  scale,  that  small  states  cannot 
perform  them. 

After  the  republican  constitutions  of  the  Greeks  were 
established,  their  armies  consisted  chiefly  of  militia.  Every 
citizen  was  obliged  to  serve  in  it,  unless  the  state  itself  made 
particular  exceptions.  In  Athens,  the  obligation  continued 
from  the  eighteenth  to  the  fifty-eighth  year ;  we  do  not 
know  whether  it  was  elsewhere  the  same ;  but  a  great  dif- 
ference could  hardly  have  existed.  Each  citizen  was  there- 
fore a  soldier;  even  the  inqinlini,  the  resident  strangers, 
were  not  always  spared;'  and  there  were  times  of  distress, 

*  They  were  at  least  obliged  sometimes  to  do  naval  service.    Demosth. 
Phil.  i.  Op.  i.  p.  50. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


155 


when  the  very  slaves  were  armed,  usually  under  the  promise 
of  their  freedom,  if  they  should  do  their  duty.^ 

The  militia  of  a  country  may,  under  certain  circum- 
stances, very  nearly  resemble  a  standing  army.  Yet  the 
principles  on  which  the  two  are  founded,  are  very  different. 
The  citizen  who  serves  as  a  soldier,  has  for  his  object  the 
defence  of  his  family  and  his  property ;  and  hence  the 
maxim  in  states,  where  the  army  is  composed  of  citizens,  that 
he  who  has  the  most  to  lose,  will  make  the  best  soldier.  In 
Rome  the  poorer  class,  (capite  censi,)  till  the  times  of 
Marius,  was  excluded  from  military  service ;  and  it  seems 
to  have  been  hardly  otherwise  in  Athens.^  Yet  this  poorer 
class  was  or  grew  to  be  the  most  numerous ;  accustomed  to 
privations,  those  who  composed  it  were  perhaps  for  that 
reason  the  best  fitted  for  the  duties  of  war.  When,  on  the 
contrary,  standing  armies  are  formed,  property  ceases  to  be 
regarded  ;  and  the  greatest  number  of  enlistments  is  made 
from  the  needy  part  of  the  community.  What  a  contrast 
between  this  and  the  Grecian  institutions ! 

Considering  therefore  the  moderate  extent  of  the  Grecian 
states,  it  was  the  less  to  be  expected  that  any  of  them  could 
assemble  a  large  army,  if  the  slaves  were  not  enrolled.  Even 
where  every  one  was  put  in  motion,  the  number  remained 
limited ;  not  more  than  ten  thousand  Athenians  fought  on 
the  plain  of  Marathon.  Large  armies  could  be  collected 
only  by  the  union  of  many  states ;  the  most  numerous  ever 
collected  in  Greece,  during  its  independence,  was  in  the 
battle  of  Platsec^.'  But  these  considerable  alliances  were 
commonly  of  a  temporary  nature ;  and  for  that  reason  the 
art  of  war  could  not  be  much  advanced  by  them.  From 
the  battle  of  Platsese  till  the  age  of  Epaminondas,  that  is, 
during  the  most  flourishing  period  of  Greece,  a  Grecian 
army  of  thirty  thousand  men  was  probably  never  assembled 

in  one  place. 

The  Persian  wars  seem  to  have  been  suited  to  promote 
the  improvement  of  military  science.  But  after  the  battle 
of  Platsese,  it  was  the  navy  and  not  the  land  forces  which 

'  Thucyd.  iv.  5.  , 

'  Harpocration  in  ei)r€c.    Yet  it  is  evident  from  the  passage,  that  the  case 

was  different  in  the  time  of  Demosthenes.  ,     ^   u 

'  About  111,000  men.    But  only  38,000  were  heavily  armed;  and  of  the 

light-armed  troops,  37,000  were  Spartan  Helots.     Herod,  ix.  29,  30. 


156 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[ciiAr.  XII. 


became  of  decisive  influence.  After  that  battle,  no  consi- 
derable one  was  fought  by  land  ;  no  large  Grecian  army 
was  again  brought  together.  By  maintaining  the  ascend- 
ency in  the  iEgean  Sea,  Greece  was  protected. 
•  The  petty  wars  which,  after  the  victories  over  the  Per- 
sians, were  carried  on  between  the  several  states,  could  not 
contribute  much  to  the  advancement  of  the  art.  They  were 
nothing  but  single  expeditions,  decided  by  single  insignifi- 
cant engagements. 

No  such  advancement  could  therefore  be  expected  till 
the  time  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  which  involved  all 
Greece.  But  this  war  soon  came  to  be  carried  on  more  by 
sea  than  by  land ;  and  the  military  operations  consisted 
principally  in  sieges.  No  single  great  battle  was  fought  on 
land  during  its  whole  course ;  besides  naval  science,  there- 
fore, the  art  of  besieging  may  have  made  some  progress, 
especially  in  the  expedition  against  Syracuse.  But  as  this 
expedition  terminated  in  the  total  destruction  of  the  army, 
it  could  have  no  abiding  consequences. 

Till  the  age  of  Epaminondas,  Sparta  and  Athens  are  the 
only  states  which  attract  our  attention.  In  Sparta,  where 
the  militia  resembled  a  standing  army,  it  would  seem  that 
the  art  of  war  might  have  made  advances.  But  two  causes 
prevented.  The  one  was  the  obstinate  attachment  to  an- 
cient usage,  which  rendered  changes  and  improvements 
difficult.  The  other  was  the  remarkable  scarcity  of  great 
commanders,  a  scarcity  to  have  been  least  expected  "in  a 
warlike  state ;  but  which  may  have  proceeded  from  the  for- 
mer cause.  If  we  possessed  a  history  of  Pausanias,  written 
by  himself,  it  would  perhaps  show  us  how  his  talents,  li- 
mited in  their  exercise  by  the  regulations  of  his  native  city, 
proved  ruinous  to  himself,  as  in  the  case  of  the  German 
Wallenstein,  by  making  him  a  traitor.  Leonidas  has  our 
admiration  for  his  greatness  as  a  man,  not  as  a  general ;  and 
the  fiery  Brasidas,  well  fitted  to  be  the  hero  of  a  revolution- 
ary war,  like  the  Peloponnesian,  fell  in  the  very  beginning 
of  his  career,^  and  no  worthy  successors  appeared  till  Ly- 
sander  and  Agesilaus.    And  of  the  first  of  these  two,  it  is 

'  Thucyd.  v.  10.  When  we  read  his  proclamation,  addressed  to  the  Acan- 
thians,  Thucyd.  iv.  85,  we  beUeve  ourselves  brought  down  to  the  years  17^3 
and  1794. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


157 


known  that  he  trusted  rather  in  the  Persian  subsidies  than 

in  himself 

More  could  then  have  been  expected  from  Athens.  But 
here,  as  our  preceding  remarks  have  made  apparent,  the 
army  was  subordinate  to  the  navy.  From  the  commence- 
ment of  the  splendid  period  of  that  republic,  its  poli- 
tical greatness  rested  on  the  latter.  This  preserved  to  it 
the  ascendency ;  its  allies  were  maritime  cities,  and  assisted 
with  ships  rather  than  with  troops  ;  and  the  destiny  of  Athens 
was  decided  on  the  sea,  gloriously  at  Salamis,  and  tragically 
on  the  Hellespont.^  In  Athens,  therefore,  no  strong  motive 
could  exist,  to  perfect  the  art  of  war  by  land. 

Such  were  the  obstacles  in  general ;  others  lay  in  the 
manner  in  which  the  military  affairs  of  the  Grecians  were 
organized.  We  mention  first  the  situation  of  the  com- 
manders ;  at  least  in  Athens  and  in  several  other  cities  f  in 
which  not  one,  but  several  generals  shared  the  chief  com- 
mand with  one  another,  and  even  that  usually  for  a  short 
period  of  time. 

Where  a  militia  exists,  the  political  divisions  are  usually 
military  in  their  origin.  Such  was  the  case  with  the  tribes 
in  Rome  and  in  Athens.^  The  ten  wards  of  this  last  city 
had  each  its  own  leader  ;  and  these  together  were  the  gene- 
rals.* So  it  was  in  the  Persian,  so  in  the  Peloponnesian 
war.^  That  a  similar  regulation  existed  in  Boeotia,  is  evident 
from  the  number  of  their  commanders ;  and  we  learn  the 
same  respecting  Syracuse,  as  well  from  the  history  of  its  war 
with  Athens,^  as  from  the  elevation  of  Dionysius.  In 
Athens,  a  kind  of  destiny  secured  in  the  decisive  moment 
the  preponderance  to  a  superior  mind,  a  Miltiades ;  but 
where  the  command  was  shared  by  so  many,  it  is  obvious 
that  existing  institutions  could  receive  but.  little  improve- 
ment. 

Another  still  greater  obstacle  lay  in  the  circumstance, 
that  the  troops  were  not  paid.  Before  the  Peloponnesian 
war,  or  at  least  before  the  administration  of  Pericles,  no  pay 

'  In  the  year  406  B.  C,  near  ^gospotamos. 

'  As,  e.  g.,  in  Thebes  and  in  Syracuse. 

'  These  were  called  tnhus  in  Rome,  ^vXat  in  Athens. 

*  The  ffrparijyoi,  of  whom  ten  were  annually  appointed. 

*  Compare  the  instructive  narration  in  Herod,  vi.  109,  respecting  the  con- 
sultation previous  to  the  battle  of  Marathon.  "  Thucyd.  vi.  63. 


158 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  xii. 


was  given  in  Athens  or  in  any  Grecian  city,  except,  perhaps 
Corinth.  Military  service  was  the  duty  of  a  citizen ;  and 
he  who  served,  was  obh'ged  to  provide  for  himself  But  he 
who  receives  nothing  from  the  state,  will  the  less  submit  to 
its  commands.  From  that  period,  the  custom  of  paying- 
was  so  far  introduced,  that  those  who  had  actually  taken  the 
field,  received  a  very  small  compensation.'  With  such  a 
constitution,  moral  causes  must  have  outweighed  commands. 
Courage  and  patriotism  can  animate  an  army  of  citizens 
but  can  hardly  make  a  machine  of  them  ;  and  what  fruits 
would  have  been  gathered  by  him,  who  should  have  suc- 
ceeded in  the  attempt  ? 

Beside   these  difficulties,  there  existed  in  many  states 
another,  arising  from  the  weakness  of  their  cavalry,  or  a  to- 
tal  want  of  it.    Homer  knows  nothing  of  cavalry.    It  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  introduced  into  the  Grecian  states 
till  after  the  establishment  of  republican  forms  of  govern- 
ment ;    since,  according  to  the   remark  of  Aristotle,  the 
opulent  citizens  found  in  it  at  once  a  support  of  their  power 
and  a  gratification  of  their  vanity.^    But  whether  a  city 
could  have  cavalry,  depended  on  the  nature  of  its  territory, 
and  the  quantity  of  pasture  which  it  possessed.    Where  the 
territory  was  not  favourable,  the  cavalry  was  not  strong 
Athens,  where  so  much  attention  was  paid  to  this  subject 
never  had  more  than  a  thousand  men;  Sparta  appears,  be- 
fore Agesilaus,  to  have  had  few,  or  perhaps  originally  none 
at  all ;  the  Peloponnesus  was  little  adapted  to  it ;  and  Thes- 
saly,  the  only  state  of  the  mother  country  which  possessed 
any  considerable  body  of  it,  was  not  remarkably  skilful  in 
making  use  of  it.^    Where  it  existed,  none  but  wealthy 
citizens  could  serve  in  it,  for  the  service  was  expensive. 
1  his  was  the  case  m  Athens;*  and  yet  here  the  state  pro- 
vided for  the  support  of  the  horses  even  in  time  of  peace ; 
and  the  weak  but  splendid  cavalry  formed  no  inconsiderable 
article  in  the  sum  of  the  yearly  expenditures.^ 

\  J^^/thenians  paid  from  two  to  four  oboli  daily. 
^  Un  bparta,  consult  Xenoph.  Op.  p.  596. 
See  the  account  of  their  war  with  the  Phocians     Pausan   n  7qs      Thp 

ekeTs  t^::tl  T?  '^  'r  ^TH\^  chiefly  in'^avdryrai  Fealt'nothTng 
'  The  Stf  •       -    f  ^^s<^PJoof  of  their  little  progress  in  the  art  of  war.^ 
Ihe  knights,  iTTTTUQ,  foimed  the  second  class  according  to  DroDertv 

annin;:^'"^        ^'"'^^-  ^'  ^'^'''  ^^"^^^  ^^'  ?'  ^Ssfit  coKt/ialents 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


159 


Previous  to  the  Macedonian  times,  the  distinction  be- 
tween heavy  and  light  horse  seems  to  have  been  unknown 
in  Greece ;  though  it  would  be  too  much  to  assert  that  a 
diiference  in  the  equipments  no  where  prevailed.  The 
Athenian  horsemen  were  equipped  much  like  a  modern 
cuirassier,  with  breastplate,  helmet,  and  greaves ;  and  even 
the  horses  were  partly  covered.^  From  the  exercises  which 
Xenophon  prescribes,  to  leap  over  ditches  and  walls,  we 
must  not  conceive  the  armour  as  too  cumbersome.^  I  find 
no  accounts  of  that  of  the  Thessalian  cavalry;  but  from 
what  Pausanias  says,  it  could  not  have  been  very  light.^ 

With  respect  to  the  infantry,  the  difference  between 
heavy  and  light-armed  troops*  prevailed  throughout  all 
Greece.  The  former  were  armed  for  the  attack  and  close 
conflict.  They  wore  a  coat  of  mail  and  helmet ;  the  rest  of 
the  body  was  protected  by  the  shield.  For  the  attack  they 
had  both  spear  and  sword.  The  light  troops,  unencumbered 
with  that  heavy  armour,  carried  the  javelin,  with  bow  and 
arrows.^ 

The  weapons  continued,  therefore,  the  same  as  those 
which  we  find  used  in  the  Homeric  age.  But  many  inqui- 
ries and  many  attempts  were  made  to  improve  them  in 
various  respects.  Whether  a  straight  or  curved  sword  was 
the  best;^  whether  a  longer  or  shorter  shield  deserved  the 
preference  ;^  above  all,  how  the  weight  of  the  coat  of  mail 
could  be  diminished,  and  whether  it  should  be  made  of 
metal  or  of  some  lighter  substance,^  were  questions  of  no 
little  importance.  Yet  previous  to  the  Macedonian  age,  we 
hear  of  no  changes  which  could  give  a  new  character  to  the 
whole ;  and  therefore  we  must  leave  to  the  antiquarian  all 
further  particular  researches. 

'  Xenoph.  de  Re  Equestri,  Op.  p.  951,  has  described  them  minutely. 
'  Xenoph.  Op.  p.  944. 

'  Pausan.  p.  797.  The  horsemen  who  had  been  thrown  down,  being  un- 
able  to  rise,  were  slain  by  the  Phocians. 

*  'OTrXirat  and  x//tXoi.     See  Potter's  Archseolog. 

*  Bow  and  arrows  do  not  seem  to  have  been  favourite  weapons ;  they  are 
seldom  mentioned,  and  only  in  connexion  with  certain  tribes,  as  the  Cretans. 
Javelins  were  preferred.  These  were  carried  by  the  cavalry,  as  appears  from 
Xenoph.  11.  cc. 

"  Xenoph.  Op.  p.  953. 

'  Hence  the  different  names  9vpt6g  and  adKOQ,  the  large  shield,  a«x7ric  and 

vkXrtj,  the  small  one,  etc. 

'  The  invention  of  the  lighter  coat  of  mail  distinguishes  Iphicrates.  Cornel. 
Nep.  in  Iphic.  c.  1. 


160 


AXCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  XII. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


'    On  the  other  hand,  we  ask  leave,  so  far  as  one  who  has 
not  been  initiated  into  the  art  of  war  may  venture  his  opi^ 
nions,  to  offer  some  remarks  respecting  the  progress  made 
by  the  Greeks  in  the  art  which  relates  to  the  positions  and 
evolutions  of  armies,  all  which  we  comprehend  under  the 
word  tactics.    We  the  more  desire  to  do  this,  because  it 
will  afford  us  a  favourable  opportunity  of  expressing  an  opi- 
nion on  some  of  their  most  distinguished  generals.    It  can 
with  truth  be  said,  that  the  art  of  tactics  is  in  some  respects 
independent  of  the  progress  of  the  other  branches  of  mili- 
tary science ;    and  in  others  is   necessarily  dependent  on 
them.    It  is  independent,  so  far  as  we  speak  of  taking  ad- 
vantage of  situation  and  the  ground.  The  leader  of  a  savage 
horde  may  profit  by  his  position,  no  less  than  the  com- 
mander of  the  best-disciplined  army.     Each  will  do  it  in  his 
own  way.     It  is  an  affair  of  genius,  and  rules  cannot  be 
given  on  the  subject.    He  can  do  it,  to  whom  nature  has 
given  the  necessary  keenness  and  quickness  of  view.  This 
art  IS  therefore  always  the  property  of  individuals ;  it  can- 
not be  propagated  or  preserved  by  instructions.     Entirely 
the  reverse  is  true  of  the  drawing  up  of  an  army  and  the 
evolutions  dependent  thereupon.    They  rest  upon  rules  and 
knowledge,  which  are  lasting ;  though  we  readily  concede 
that  this  IS  but  as  it  were  the  inanimate  body  of  the  art, 
into  which  genius  must  breathe  life.     Modern  history  has 
shown  by  a  great  example,  how  those  forms  may  continue 
m  the  most  courageous  and  best-disciplined  army,  and  yet 
produce  no  effect  when  the  spirit  of  them  has  passed  away. 
But  here  a  subject  is  proposed  to  the  historian,  of  which  he 
can  treat.    Can  this  be  done  better  than  by  comparing  to- 
gether   several   of  the   principal  engagements,    of  which 
detailed  accounts  have  been  preserved  ?    Inferences  which 
may  thus  be  drawn  respecting  the  progress  of  tactics,  can 
hardly  be  exposed  to  any  considerable  errors. 

In  the  Persian  wars,  the  victory  of  Marathon  was  the  first 
splendid  military  action  of  the  Greeks,  or  rather  of  the 
Athenians.  Athens  owed  it  to  the  heroic  spirit  of  her 
Jliitiades.  It  was  he  who  turned  the  scale,  when  it  was 
still  a  question,  whether  a  battle  should  be  ventured  or  not. 
Ihe  voices  of  the  ten  leaders,  of  whom  Miltiades  was  one, 
were  divided ;   the  eleventh  vote  of  the  Polemarch  was  to 


161 


decide.    At  this  moment  Miltiades  arose  and  addressed  the 
Polemarch  Callimachus.^   "  It  now  rests  with  you  to  reduce 
Athens  to  slavery,  or,  setting  it  free,  to  leave  a  reputation 
among  men,  such  as  neither  Harmodius  nor  Aristogiton  has 
left ;  for  long  as  the  city  of  Athens  has  existed,  it  has  never 
been  in  any  danger  like  the  present.    If  it  should  submit  to 
the  Persians,  it  is  already  determined  what   it  will  suffer 
under  its  tyrants;  should  it  be  saved,  it  can  become  the  first 
of  Grecian  cities.    If  we  do  not  join  battle,  I  fear  a  faction 
will  confuse  the  minds  of  the  Athenians,  and  make  them 
Persian ;  if  we  fight,  victory  will  be  ours  with  the  gods." 
History  can  relate  of  a  great  man  nothing  more  important 
than  his  conduct  in  the  most  decisive  moment  of  his  life. 
Miltiades  himself  could  not  have  foreboded  how  much  de- 
pended on  that  moment ;  yet  he  gained  his  end,  and  Calli- 
machus  adopted  his  opinion.     But  besides  the  talent  of  the 
general,  who  knew  how  to  avail  himself  of  his  position  to 
cover  his  wings,  the  victory  was  not  less  decided  by  the 
discipline  of  the  Athenian  militia,  accustomed  to  preserve 
their  ranks  even  while  advancing  with  rapidity.    They  ran 
to  the  encounter ;  ^  the  first  of  the  Greeks,  who  did  so.  The 
wings  of  the  enemy  were  discomfited  ;  and  the  name  of 
Marathon  became  immortal  among  men. 

The  battle  of  Plataeae,  which  happened  eleven  years  later,* 
is  one  of  those,  respecting  which  we  have  the  most  accurate 
accounts.*  The  motions  of  the  army  on  the  preceding  days, 
give  it  an  importance  for  the  student  of  tactics.  In  his 
evolutions  the  Persian  general  seems  to  have  been  superior 
to  the  Grecian  ;  for  he  cut  off  all  communication  with  them, 
and  all  supplies  of  water,  and  compelled  them  to  change 
their  encampment.  But  the  want  of  cavalry  in  the  face  of 
an  army  which  abounded  in  it,  made  every  motion  of  the 
Greeks  difficult;  and  when  we  remember  the  internal  or- 
ganization of  the  army,  and  the  little  power  possessed  by 

^  Herod,  vi.  109. 

'  iv  dp6fi({>,  Herod,  vi.  112.  Herodotus  says  expressly,  that  they  made  the 
attack  with  closed  ranks,  dOpooi ;  we  must  not  therefore  think  of  a  wild 
onset.  They  had  neither  cavalry  nor  archers;  just  as  the  Swiss  at  Novara 
m  1513  were  without  cavalry  and  artillery;  in  each  case  the  result  was  the 
same.    When  enthusiasm  attacks,  computation  fails. 

]  In  the  year  479  B.  C. 

*  Herod,  ix.  28,  etc.  Plutarch,  in  Aristide,  Op.  ii.  p.  510,  etc.,  has  made 
use  of  Herodotus. 

M 


; 


,i>J 


162 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  xn. 


the  commander,  not  only  over  the  allies,  but  even  over  his 
own  Spartans,^  we  shall  discover  still  greater  difficulties, 
with  which  Pausanias  had  to  contend.  And  yet  the  Gre- 
cians obtained  a  splendid  victory ;  but  it  was  far  more  the 
result  of  the  desperate  attack  made  by  the  Tegeans  and  the 
Spartans,  than  of  artful  evolutions.  In  the  days  which  pre- 
ceded the  battle,  Pausanias  appears  as  a  general  of  prudence 
and  sound  judgment ;  he  owed  the  victory  not  to  himself, 
but  to  a  part  of  his  army  and  to  fortune. 

Of  the  battles  which  the  able  and  successful  Cimon  won 
of  the  Persians,  history  has  preserved  no  details ;  but  yet 
enough  to  show,  that  the  science  of  tactics  was  not  advanced 
by  them.  They  were  for  the  most  part  naval  engagements ; 
those  which  took  place  on  land,  were  only  unexpected  at- 
tacks. After  his  death,  Plutarch  tells  us  expressly,  nothing 
great  or  considerable  was  executed.^ 

The  first  campaigns  of  the  Peloponnesian  war  show  be- 
yond dispute,  that  the  art  of  war,  in  a  higher  sense,  had 
made  but  little  progress.  They  were  only  inroads  followed 
by  nothing  decisive.  We  have  already  remarked,  why,  in  the 
progress  of  that  long  and  weary  war,  tactics  gained  so  little. 

The  case  was  changed,  when,  after  this  war,  Sparta,  con- 
tending for  the  rank  she  had  won,  found  her  Agesilaus,  and 
was  yet  obliged  to  yield  the  ascendency  to  Thebes.  Here 
the  decision  was  made  by  armies  and  not  by  navies.  In  the 
view  of  those  states,  therefore,  armies  rose  in  importance. 

We  will  not  refuse  to  Agesilaus  any  of  the  praises  which 
Xenophon  has  lavished  on  him.  He  was  a  model  not  only 
of  a  Spartan,  but  of  a  Grecian  general.  In  the  Spartan 
method  of  war,  he  made  one  change ;  in  his  wars  against 
the  Persians  in  Asia,  he  was  the  first  to  form  a  numerous 
cavalry ;  and  to  show  that  he  knew  the  use  of  it.^  Except 
this  he  made  no  essential  alteration  in  tactics.  The  proof  of 
this  is  found  in  the  description  which  Xenophon  has  given* 
of  the  battle  of  Coronea.  The  same  usual  position  was  taken ; 


*  See  in  Herodotus,  and  Plutarch  11.  cc.  p.  517,  the  relation  of  the  disobe- 
dience of  Amompharetus,  in  confirmation  of  the  remark  which  we  made  above, 
p.  233,  on  Pausanias. 

^  Plutarch,  in  Cimone,  Op.  iii.  p.  217. 

'  But  that  too  was  only  temporary.  The  battle  of  Leuctra  shows  how  bad 
the  Spartan  cavalry  w^as  at  a  subsequent  period.    See  Xenoph.  Op.  p.  696. 

*  Xenoph.  in  Agesil.  Op.  p.  659. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


163 


the  usual  method  of  attack,  by  opposing  a  straight  line  to  a 
straight  line ;  without  any  artificial  evolutions,  either  before 
or  during  the  battle. 

If  it  should  appear  from  all  this,  that  the  higher  branches 
of  the  art  of  war,  including  tactics,  had  not  made  so  con- 
siderable progress  as  might  have  been  expected,  from  the 
greatest  of  commanders,  we  would  not  in  any  degree  di- 
minish the  fame  of  those  distinguished  men.  Their  glory 
rests  on  something  independent  of  the  mere  evolutions  of 
their  armies.  The  Grecian  leader  was  more  closely  united 
to  his  soldiers ;  he  was  obliged  to  know  how  to  gain  the 
confidence  of  his  fellow-soldiers,  who  at  the  same  time  were 
his  fellow-citizens.  This  could  not  be  done  by  commands ; 
rank  and  birth  were  here  of  no  avail ;  every  thing  depended 
on  personal  character ;  and  to  be  esteemed  a  great  man  it 
was  necessary  to  give  proofs  of  greatness. 

It  is  the  glory  of  the  Greek  nation,  that  it  produced  in 
almost  every  science  and  art  the  man,  who  first  clearly  re- 
cognised the  eternal  principles  on  which  it  rests,  and  by  the 
application  of  them,  unconsciously  became  the  instructor  of 
posterity.     In  the  art  of  war,  such  a  man  appeared  in 
Epaminondas.    His  fame  as  a  warrior  is  his  least  glory  ;  the 
world  should  behold  in  him  the  noblest  character  of  his  na- 
tion.   He  was  for  his  age,  what  Gustavus  Adolphus  was  for 
a  later  one.    If  we  take  from  each  of  these  great  men,  the 
peculiarities  of  their  times,  it  will  be  difficult  to  find  two 
more  congenial  spirits,  two  characters  more  nearly  resembling 
each  other.  The  parallel  we  leave  for  others  to  draw  ;  of  both 
we  never  can  hear  too  much  ;  it  is  Epaminondas,  the  skilftil 
soldier,  whom  we  are  now  to  consider.     The  idea  on  which 
his  change  in  the  method  of  war  was  founded,  was  as  simple 
as  the  man  himself;  and  we  can  hardly  fail  of  observing, 
that  it  proceeded  from  his  peculiar  situation.    With  an  in- 
ferior force  he  had  to  cope  with  a  more  powerful  adversary ;  ^ 
and  this  is  the  true  criterion  of  military  genius.     It  did  not 
escape  him,  that  he  could  not  succeed  with  the  former  order 
of  battle,  according  to  which  one  line  was  drawn  up  in  front 
of  the  other.     Hence  he  determined  to  concentrate  the  at- 
tack in  one  point  with  a  part  of  his  army,  whilst  he  with- 

*  The  Spartan  forces  in  the  battle  of  Leuctra  were  thrice  as  numerous  as 
the  Theban  j  and  besides,  till  that  time,  had  been  reckoned  invincible. 

M  2 


164 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[CUAP.   XII. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


165 


drew  the  rest ;  and  his  object  was,  in  that  one  point  to  break 
through  the  hostile  hne.  In  this  manner  he  was  triumphant 
at  Leuctra,  where  he  fell  upon  the  right  wing  of  the  Spar- 
tans. But  at  Leuctra,  the  success  of  the  Theban  cavalry- 
had  led  the  way  to  a  successful  issue;  it  is  at  Mantinea,  that 
we  see  for  the  first  time  the  full  application  of  the  new 
tactics,  which  are  described  to  us  by  one  profoundly  ac- 
quainted with  the  subject.  ''  Epaminondas,"  says  Xenophon,^ 
*' advanced  with  his  army  like  a  galley  with  threatening 
prow ;  sure  that  if  he  could  once  break  through  the  line  of 
his  adversaries,  a  general  flight  would  ensue.  He  therefore 
determined  to  make  the  attack  with  the  flower  of  his  army, 
while  he  drew  back  the  weaker  part  of  it."  Thus  the  illus- 
trious Theban  solved  the  great  problem  in  tactics,  by  means 
of  its  position,  to  use  the  several  parts  of  an  army  at  will ; 
the  art  of  war  which  was  thus  invented  deserved  the  name, 
and  was  the  same  which  insured  to  Alexander  the  victory 
on  the  Granicus,  as  well  as  to  Frederic  at  Leuthen.  It  is 
easy  to  be  perceived,  that  the  execution  of  the  plan  was  a  still 
greater  effort  than  its  invention.  Troops  far  better  trained 
than  the  usual  armies  of  the  Greeks,  were  needed.  And 
it  is  in  this  very  circumstance,  that  Xenophon,  himself 
an  experienced  officer,  places  the  great  merit  of  Epami- 
nondas.^ 

We  may  therefore  say  with  truth,  that  the  higher  branches 
of  the  art  of  war  began  with  Epaminondas  to  be  understood. 
But  even  before  him,  a  change  had  gradually  taken  place  in 
the  whole  military  regulations ;  a  change  of  the  most  de- 
cisive importance. 

We  allude  to  the  custom  of  paying  the  troops.  In  states 
which  originally  made  exclusive  use  of  militia,  the  form  and 
the  spirit  of  their  military  institutions  must  have  been  changed 
by  the  introduction  of  mercenary  troops.  These  could  not 
have  the  internal  regulations  of  the  miHtia;  which  were 
founded  on  the  division  of  the  citizens ;  and  although  the 
Swiss  mercenaries  of  the  sixteenth  century  have  proved  that 
battles  can  be  gained  even  with  hired  soldiers,  yet  the  ex- 

»  Xenoph.  H.  Gr.  vi.  Op.  p.  596.  We  learn  from  the  same  passage  how 
much  the  excellent  Theban  cavalry  (formed  by  Pelopidas)  surpassed  the 
Spartan. 

^  Xenoph.  Op.  p.  645. 


4' 
f 

I 


amples  of  those  times  have  also  proved  that  evils  are 
inseparable  from  the  custom. 

The  use  of  mercenaries  in  Greece,  may  be  traced  to  a  very 
remote  period.  The  tyrants,  those  usurpers  who  made  their 
appearance  in  the  cities  at  so  early  a  date,  were  doubtless  the 
first  to  introduce  it ;  because  they  needed  an  armed  force  to 
protect  their  usurped  authority.  But  this  force  did  not 
always  consist  of  foreigners ;  but  rather,  especially  in  the 
early  times,  of  an  armed  party  of  the  citizens,  or  was  selected 
from  among  the  partisans  of  the  tyrant ;  ^  and  further,  an  in- 
stitution which  was  regarded  as  unjust,  could  not  continue, 
still  less  be  adopted  and  regularly  established. 

Hired  troops,  of  which  we  would  here  treat,  began  to  be 
employed  in  the  Grecian  cities  at  a  later  period.  In  the 
beginning  of  the  Persian  war,  at  Marathon  and  at  Plataeae 
we  hear  nothing  of  them.  In  the  Peloponnesian  war,  they 
were  commonly,^  and  after  these  times,  almost  universally 
employed.  Several  causes  operated  to  produce  this  eflfect. 

The  first  was  the  whole  condition  of  private  life.  When 
luxury  and  the  comforts  of  life  were  introduced  after  the 
Persians  were  known,  it  is  not  astonishing  that  the  rich  de- 
sired to  be  free  from  military  service.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  Peloponnesian  war  and  the  almost  universal  revolutions 
produced  by  it,  had  so  increased  the  number  of  the  poor,  that 
there  was  a  numerous  class  who  made  a  profession  of  war, 
and  were  ready  to  serve  any  one  who  would  pay  them.  But 
still  more  important  was  the  fact,  that  with  the  Persians  no 
less  than  the  Greeks,  the  same  change  in  domestic  life  pro- 
duced the  same  consequences.  The  subsidies  of  the  former 
first  enabled  the  Spartans  to  hire  troops.  But  they  soon 
hired  in  their  turn,  and  in  greater  numbers  than  the  Greeks ; 
and  no  mercenaries  were  so  acceptable,  none  so  indispensa- 
ble to  them  as  the  Grecian.  The  high  wages  which  they 
gave,  like  those  of  the  British  in  modern  times,  allured  nu- 

*  This  was  done  by  Pisistratus  on  his  first  usurpation ;  Herod,  i.  59.  In 
later  times,  (let  the  history  of  Syracuse  be  called  to  mind,)  the  hired  troops 
of  the  tyrants  were  wholly  or  chiefly  composed  of  foreigners. 

^  The  hired  troops  of  the  Spartans,  from  the  Peloponnesus,  are  mentioned  as 
early  as  the  times  of  Brasidas ;  Thucyd.  L.  iv.  80 ;  those  of  Athens  from 
Thrace,  about  the  same  time ;  Thucyd.  L.  v.  6 ;  those  of  the  Corinthians  and 
others  we  find  constantly  mentioned.  In  the  Peloponnesus,  it  was  chiefly 
the  Arcadians  who  served  as  mercenaries  ;  hence  the  proverb  among  the 
poets ;  l^  'ApKaSiag  ImKovpoi,  A  then.  i.  p.  27,  for  they  did  not  serve  for  nothing. 


166 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.   XII. 


merous  troops  across  the  sea ;  and  we  need  but  call  to  mind 
the  ten  thousand  whom  Clearchus  led  to  Cyrus  the  younger 
and  with  whom  Xenophon  made  his  retreat/  to  be  con- 
vinced that  great  multitudes  followed  this  kind  of  life.  The 
subsequent  Phocian  war^  was  conducted  by  the  Phocians 
who  were  aided  by  the  treasures  of  Delphi,  almost  exclu- 
sively with  hired  troops ;  and  Demosthenes  is  loud  in  his 
complaints  and  censure  of  a  custom,  which  all  his  eloquence 
was  not  able  to  change.^ 

Of  all  writers,  Isocrates  has  spoken  the  most  distinctly  on 
this  subject.  His  long  life  continued  almost  through  the 
whole  period  in  which  this  custom  arose;  and  the  conse- 
quences were  so  distinctly  visible  in  his  old  age,  his  patriot- 
ism could  not  but  break  forth  in  lamentations.  Those  very 
troops  of  Clearchus  and  Xenophon,  troops  which  made  the 
Persians  tremble, — who  were  they?  Men,  says  Isocrates,'* 
of  such  reputation,  that  they  could  not  reside  in  their  native 
cities.  "  Formerly,"  says  he  in  another  place,^  "  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  mercenaries ;  now  the  situation  of  Greece  is 
such,  that  it  would  be  far  easier  to  raise  an  army  of  vao-abonds 
than  of  citizens."  The  natural  consequences  of  this  state  of 
things  was,  that  he  who  had  the  most  money,  had  also  the 
most  power.  He  could  raise  an  army  at  will.  But  on  how 
uncertain  a  foundation  did  this  power  repose  !  The  rich  man 
can  be  outbid  by  the  rich ;  and  Greece  learned,  what  Car- 
thage learned  also  with  a  more  melancholy  certainty,^  that  a 
state  which  trusts  to  mercenary  troops,  must  finally  tremble 
before  them.  "  Unless,"  says  Isocrates  to  Philip,^  "  to  pro- 
vide for  the  support  of  these  people  by  establishing  colonies 
of  them,  they  will  soon  collect  in  vast  troops,  and  be  more 
formidable  to  the  Hellenes,  than  the  barbarians." « 

We  have  already  remarked,  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  Greeks, 
the  navy  was  more  important  than  the  army.  They  very 
early  distinguished  ships  of  war  from  merchant  vessels ;  of 
which  the  consequence  was,  that,  as  the  former  belonged  to 

*  In  the  year  400  B.  C. 

*  Called  also  the  Sacred  war,  from  357  till  347  B.  C. 
'  See  his  Philippic  and  Olynthiac  orations. 

*  Isocrat.  Panegyr.  Op.  p.  71.  ^  i^^crat.  Or.  ad  Phil.  Op.  p.  101. 
"  In  the  wars  with  the  mercenaries,  240—237  B.  C 

'  Isocrat.  ad  Philip.  Op.  p.  106. 

*  We  learn  from  Xenophon's  retreat,  that  they  were  formidable  to  their 
own  commanders;  just  as  were  the  Swiss  at  Milan. 


■■f 


1- 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


167 


I 


the  state,  to  build  and  fit  out  fleets  was  entirely  a  public 
concern.     Yet  to  judge  correctly  of  the  condition  and  pro- 
gress of  naval  science  among  the  Greeks,  we  must  not  forget, 
that  the  scene  of  action  for  their  squadrons  was,  and  con- 
tinued to  be,  limited  to  the  iEgean  and  Ionian  Seas.    The 
expedition  of  Athens  against  Syracuse,  is  the  most  distant 
which  was  ever  undertaken  by  any  Grecian  fleet  of  the 
mother  country ;  with  what  success  is  known.     Even  the 
Black  Sea,  though  open  to  their  vessels  of  commerce,  was 
hardly  visited  by  their  galleys  of  war,  because  no  occasion 
ever  required  it.     The  seas  which  they  navigated  were  full 
of  islands ;  it  was  never  difficult  to  find  landing-places  and 
harbours ;  and  the  naval  expeditions  were  not  much  more 
than  passages  by  sea.    Further ;  Greece,  especially  the  most 
cultivated  eastern  part  of  it,  did  not  abound  in  wood  ;  and 
though  some  of  the  western  or  inland  districts^  were  better 
provided  with  it,  the  rivers,  which  were  hardly  more  than 
mountain  streams,  afforded  little  opportunity  for  the  trans- 
portation  of  timber.     The   cities,   therefore,  which   built 
fleets,   were  obliged  to  seek  their  timber  at  a  distance; 
we  know  of  Athens,  that  it  imported  what  it  needed  from 
Thrace.^  The  expense  was  therefore  necessarily  great ;  none 
but  the  richest  cities  were  able  to  bear  them  ;  and  hence  it 
is  easy  to  see,  that  limitations  were  produced,  which  make 
the  exertions  of  several  states  for  their  navy,  appear  to  us  in 
a  very  extraordinary  light.    Finally ;  the  manning  of  the 
fleets  was  attended  with  peculiar  difficulties.     Two  kinds  of 
men,  mariners  and  soldiers,  were  employed.    The  latter  were 
citizens,  and  belonged  to  the  militia ;  but  according  to  the 
earlier  regulations,  the  citizens  were  not  obliged  to  do  ser- 
vice on   board  of  the  ships.     Slaves  were  used  in  part, 
especially  for  the  oars ;  and  in  part  foreigners  were  hired. 
Such  is  the  description  given  by  Isocrates.     "  Formerly," 
says  he,^  "  in  the  better  times  of  Athens,  foreigners  and 
slaves  were  used  for  the  managjement  of  the  vessels ;  but 
citizens  performed  service  in  arms.     Now  the  case  is  re- 
versed ;  those  of  the  city  are  compelled  to  serve  as  mariners,* 
while  the  soldiers  consist  of  mercenaries."    The  mannino-  of 

o 

'  As  Acamania  and  Arcadia.  *  Thucyd.  iv.  108 

•  Isocrat.  de  Pace,  Op.  p.  169,    See  Scheffer  de  Milit.  Naut.  ii.  3. 
Especially  the  InquiHni. 


168 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XII. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


169 


n 


the  fleets  was  therefore  attended  with  great  expense  ;  and  it 
is  known  respecting  them  from  the  Peloponnesian  war,  that 
Sparta  could  not  have  borne  them  but  for  the  alHance  and 
subsidies  of  Persia. 

These  causes  are  sufficient  to  limit  our  expectations  of  the 
naval  affairs  of  the  Grecians.  Yet  here,  also,  the  different 
epochs  must  be  distinguished. 

We  learn  of  Homer  and  of  the  Argonautic  poets,  that  the 
Greeks  even  in  the  heroic  age  had  ships  which  were  fitted 
out  for  distant  voyages.  The  piracy,  which  before  that  pe- 
riod had  been  so  common,  must  have  made  it  necessary  for 
ships  to  be  prepared,  not  only  for  carrying  freight,  but  for 
fighting.  These  vessels  were  called  long,  by  way  of  dis- 
tinguishing them  from  the  more  ancient  round  ones,  which 
were  fit  only  for  the  transportation  of  merchandise ;  though 
we  would  by  no  means  deny,  that  the  former  were  also  used 
for  the  purposes  of  commerce.  It  was  characteristic  of 
them,  that  all  the  rowers  sat  in  one  line.  In  such  times  of 
insecurity,  fast  sailing  is  the  chief  merit  of  a  vessel ;  be  it 
for  the  attack  or  for  flight.  This  must  have  been  promoted 
in  the  lengthened  vessels  both  by  the  form  itself,  and  the 
increased  number  of  rowers ;  which  gradually  rose  from 
twenty  to  fifty,  and  even  more.  Hence  there  was  a  parti- 
cular class  of  ships,  which  derived  their  name  from  that 
circumstance.^ 

But  the  incident  which  made  a  real  and  the  only  epoch 
in  the  histoiy  of  Grecian  naval  architecture,  is  the  invention 
of  the  triremes.  They  were  distinguished  by  the  triple  order 
of  benches  for  rowing,  placed  one  above  the  other.^  It  thus 
became  necessary  to  build  them  much  higher ;  and  though 
swiftness  may  have  been  carefully  regarded,  strength  and 
firmness  must  have  been  viewed  as  of  equal  importance. 
But  even  before  the  Macedonian  times,  and  always  after  them, 
the  chief  strength  of  the  Grecian  fleet  lay  in  the  triremes, 
just  as  that  of  modern  fleets  in  ships  of  the  line  of  the  second 
and  third  rate. 

'  The  mvTTiKovTopoi.  See  Scheffer  de  Varietate  Nav.  in  Gronov.  Thes.  xL 
p.  752. 

*  Scheffer  de  Milit.  ITaval.  ii.  2.  I  believe  this  point,  once  so  much  con- 
tested, is  now  no  longer  doubted;  although  uncertainty  still  exists  respecting 
the  order  of  the  rows.  Compare  the  prints  and  illustrations  in  AntichitA 
d'Ercolano,  T.  v.  at  the  end. 


4 


The  structure  of  the  triremes  would  alone  warrant  the  in- 
ference, that  a  naval  force,  that  is,  a  squadron  destined  solely 
for  war,  and  possessed  by  the  state,  did  not  exist  in  Greece 
till  after  these  were  invented.  But  there  is  in  Thucydides^ 
a  passage,  which  in  my  opinion  settles  this  point  beyond  a 
doubt.  **  When,  after  the  abolition  of  monarchies,  the  cities 
became  more  wealthy,  the  Greeks  began  to  build  fleets,  and 
to  pay  more  attention  to  the  sea.  The  Corinthians  were  the 
first  to  change  the  ships  according  to  our  present  form ;  for 
in  Greece  the  first  triremes  were  built  at  Corinth ;  and  it  was 
the  ship-builder  Aminocles  of  Corinth,  who  built  for  the 
Samians  four  (such)  vessels.  But  it  was  about  three  hun- 
dred years  before  the  end  of  this  war,^  that  Aminocles  came 
to  the  Samians.  The  oldest  naval  battle  with  which  we  are 
acquainted,  was  fought  between  the  Corinthians  and  the 
Corcyraeans ;  since  that  time,  two  hundred  and  sixty  years 
have  elapsed."  ^ 

This  testimony,  more  important  than  all  the  accounts  of 
later  grammarians  and  compilers,  proves  that  it  was  in  the 
seventh  century  that  the  Grecian  cities  began  to  support 
fleets.  The  account  of  the  great  historian  is  made  much 
clearer  by  the  inquiries  respecting  Grecian  commerce,  which 
show  that  the  same  period  beheld  the  seeds  of  Grecian  cities, 
planted  on  the  sea-coast  from  Asia  to  Sicily,  spring  up  and 
flourish  in  the  genial  beams  of  liberty.  The  year,  it  is  true, 
is  not  mentioned,  in  which  the  first  triremes  were  built  in 
Corinth ;  but  the  whole  connexion  shows,  that  the  invention 
was  still  recent  in  the  age  of  Aminocles ;  and  as  the  first  naval 
battle  between  the  Greeks  was  fought  forty  years  later,  it  is 
obvious,  that  they  were  then  but  beginning  to  support  fleets. 

But  at  the  same  time  we  must  confess  that  naval  archi- 
tecture, after  this  first  great  step,  made  no  further  consider- 
able advances  before  the  Macedonian  age.  Thucydides  says 
this  expressly ;  for  he  observes,  that  the  Corinthians  gave 
the  ships  the  form  which  they  continued  to  have  in  his  time. 
Neither  did  it  at  once  become  a  general  custom  to  build 
triremes.  Till  the  Persian  wars,  the  use  of  the  long  ships 
and  those  of  fifty  oars  was  the  most  usual ;  the  Syracusans 
and  Corcyraeans  were,  about  this  time,  the  first  to  have 


'  Thucyd.  i.  13. 

"  About  640  years  B.  C. 


*  About  700  years  B.  C. 


no 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  XII. 


whole  fleets  consisting  of  triremes.^  In  these,  many  im- 
provements may  have  been  made ;  but  as  no  essential  change 
took  place,  we  leave  this  subject,  and  many  others  relating  to 
naval  matters,  to  the  industry  of  the  antiquarian. 

We  would  only  add  a  few  remarks  on  the  naval  tactics  of 
the  Greeks.  Did  they  receive  a  scientific  form  earlier  than 
the  military  ?  And  if  so,  through  whom,  and  by  what  means  ? 
And  here  the  reader  must  not  forget,  that  we  are  treating  of 
the  times  previous  to  the  dominion  of  Macedonia. 

It  is  apparent  from  the  preceding  observations,  that  the 
Greeks  had  more  reason  to  improve  their  naval  than  their 
military  tactics.  They  were  often  obliged  to  contend  with 
fleets,  not  only  superior  to  theirs  in  number,  but  also  in  the 
excellence  of  the  vessels;  for  in  the  Persian  wars,  the 
squadrons  of  the  Phoenicians  were  arrayed  against  them. 
Even  when  the  victory  had  been  gained,  the  safety  of  Greece 
still  depended  on  its  maritime  force.  This  formed  the  found- 
ation of  the  greatness  of  the  first  of  the  Grecian  cities. 
Naval  actions,  more  than  battles  by  land,  decided  the  destiny 
of  the  states.  What  circumstances  and  relations  could  be 
more  favourable  to  the  display  of  great  talents  ?  And  where 
may  we  indulge  greater  expectations,  especially  when  we 
look  through  the  lists  of  the  men  to  whom  Athens  and 
Sparta  intrusted  the  command  of  their  squadrons  ? 

We  can  best  commence  the  history  of  the  naval  tactics  of 
Greece,  at  the  period  in  which  we  have  descriptions  of  their 
engagements  at  sea.  The  earliest  account  which  we  possess, 
is  of  the  battle  which  took  place  near  the  island  Lada,  off 
Miletus,  between  the  Ionian  fleet  and  that  of  the  Phoenicians 
in  the  service  of  Persia.  The  navy  of  the  lonians  had  then 
reached  its  best  state ;  it  consisted  of  not  less  than  three 
hundred  and  fifty  triremes,  while  that  of  the  Phoenicians  was 
almost  twice  as  large.  We  find  that  a  premeditated  position 
was  taken  in  the  days  before  the  battle.  In  the  divisions  of 
the  first  fine,  there  were  intervals,  through  which  those  of 
the  second  could  sail.'^  But  the  battle  itself  is  not  instructive, 
as  the  Persians  previously  succeeded  in  dividing  the  fleet  of 
the  alUes. 

When  Xerxes  invaded  Greece,  Themistocles  gained  the 

*  Thucyd.  i.  14.  '  Herod,  vi,  12,  etc.    Here  too  we  have  an 

instance  of  how  Httle  could  be  effected  by  the  commander. 


THE  ARMY  AND  NAVY. 


171 


glory  of  being  his  country's  preserver  by  sea.  But  it  must 
not  be  forgotten,  that  though  he  was  the  commander  of 
the  Athenians,  he  had  not  the  general  command  of  the 
allies.  This  post  he  had  the  prudence  and  moderation  to 
yield,  at  least  nominally,  to  Eurybiades  the  Spartan.^  Still 
it  was  Themistocles  who  directed  the  whole,  not  by  com- 
mands, but  by  persuasion ;  and  in  this  art  who  was  equal  to 
him  ?  Twice  he  ventured  to  meet  the  much  superior  navy 
of  the  Persians ;  first  at  Artemisium,  then  at  Salamis.  But 
in  both  instances  he  remedied  his  inferiority,  not  so  much 
by  artfiil  manoeuvres,  as  by  choosing  his  situation.  He  would 
not  meet  the  immense  Persian  fleet  in  the  open  sea,  where 
the  wings  of  the  enemy  would  have  unavoidably  extended 
beyond  his  own.  Hence  he  chose  his  first  position  at  the 
northern  entrance  of  the  Strait  of  Euboea,^  and  after  the  in- 
decisive engagements  of  Artemisium,  retreated  through  those 
straits  to  the  Saronic  bay ;  where  the  nook  between  Attica 
and  the  island  of  Salamis  offered  a  station  still  more  secure. 
In  such  a  position,  where  the  enemy  is  expected  in  close  array, 
manoeuvres  are  not  further  needed ;  but  the  relation  of  Hero- 
dotus leaves  us  in  doubt,  whether  most  to  admire  the  dis- 
cernment, or  the  prudence  and  adroitness  of  the  commander. 

Of  the  later  naval  engagements  which  took  place  in  the 
course  of  those  wars,  we  have  only  general  accounts.  The 
Greeks  beat  the  Persians  too  easily.  Where  an  enemy  is 
despised,  the  art  of  war  cannot  make  much  progress. 

We  have  particular  accounts  ^  of  the  naval  fight,  which,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  took  place  between 
the  Corcyrseans  and  Corinthians;  and  after  which,  both 
nations  erected  a  trophy.  The  fleet  of  the  Corinthians  form- 
ed one  line  ;  that  of  the  Corcyreeans,  on  the  contrary,  was 
drawn  up  in  three  divisions.  But  the  historian  remarks, 
that  no  manoeuvres  took  place ;  they  grappled  at  once,  and 
ship  fought  singly  with  ship.  AH  that  we  read  of  the  fleet  of 
the  Corcyrseans,  gives  us  no  high  opinion  of  their  skill  in 
naval  tactics.      In  a  second  naval  engagement  with  the 

'  On  this  and  what  follows,  consult  the  interesting  narrative  of  Herodotus, 

viii.  2.  ^     .  i.  1    .  J 

^  The  Euripus,  as  it  was  called.   The  Persians  sent  a  part  of  their  squadron 
round  the  isfend,  to  block  up  the  southern  entrance,  and  thus  cut  off  the  re- 
treat of  the  Greeks ;  but  their  squadron  was  destroyed  by  a  storm.  Herod.  I  c. 
'  Thucyd.  i.  47,  etc. 


17^2 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XII. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


173 


Peloponnesians,  they  showed  still  less  adroitness,  and  would 
have  been  ruined,  had  not  the  division  of  the  Athenians 
covered  their  retreat.^ 

The  naval  tactics  which  were  now  known  to  the  Greeks, 
consisted  chiefly  in  sailing  round,  and  sailing  through  the 
enemy's  line.*  The  object  of  the  first  was,  to  extend  the 
line  beyond  the  opposite  wings ;  of  the  second,  to  break 
through  the  hostile  line.  To  prevent  this,  the  other  fleet 
was  drawn  up  in  two  lines,  both  with  intervals,  so  that  the 
divisions  of  the  second  line  could  pass  through  the  intervals 
in  the  first,  and  thus  assist  them,  when  assistance  was  needed. 
This  order  was  particularly  understood  by  the  Athenians,  who 
also  adopted  another  method  of  attack,  not  with  the  prow,  but 
obliquely  from  the  side ;  so  that  the  oars  of  the  enemy's  ship 
were  broken,  and  the  ships  thus  made  unmanageable.  In 
those  matters,  the  Athenians  were  superior  not  only  to  the 
Spartans,  but  even  to  the  Syracusans.' 

The  two  last  years  of  the  Peloponnesian  war  were  par- 
ticularly remarkable  for  naval  encounters ;  but  for  a  know- 
ledge of  tactics,  the  engagement  between  the  Spartans  under 
Calhcratidas,  and  the  Athenians,  near  Lesbos,  alone  deserves 
notice  ;  for  it  gives  us  an  example  of  the  management  of  a 
squadron  in  a  double  row.  The  Athenian  fleet  was  drawn 
up  in  two  lines,  both  on  the  right  and  the  left  wing.  Each 
wing  consisted  of  two  divisions,  each  division  of  fifteen  ships; 
and  was  supported  by  equal  divisions  in  the  second  line ; 
the  centre  was  composed  of  one  line.  This  order,  says 
Xenophon,*  was  chosen,  that  the  fleet  might  not  be  broken 
through.  The  Spartan  fleet,  on  the  contrary,  formed  but 
one  line ;  prepared  for  sailing  round  or  breaking  through 
the  enemy.  The  battle  was  obstinate ;  it  was  long  before 
the  Athenians  gained  the  victory,  as  Calhcratidas  fell.  His 
steersman,  before  the  battle,  had  advised  him  to  retreat,  on 
account  of  the  greatly  superior  force  of  the  Athenians. 
*^  Were  I  to  fall,  Sparta  could  exist  as  well,"  was  his  answer. 

The  naval  tactics  of  the  ancients  were  further  improved 
in  the  wars  between  the  Romans  and  Carthaginians,  and 
under  the  Ptolemies.     In  forming  an  opinion  respecting 

»  Thucyd.  iii.  77,  78.  '  UiqittXHv  and  SukvXhv.     Thucyd.  vii.  36. 

Xenoph.  H.  Gr.  i.  Op.  p.  446.  "  See  the  description  of  the 

fight  in  Thucyd.  1.  c.  *  Xenoph.  Op.  p.  446. 


them,  two  things  should  not  be  forgotten.  First ;  less  de- 
pended on  the  winds  than  in  modern  tactics ;  for  the  tri- 
remes were  moved  rather  by  oars  than  sails.  Secondly  ; 
where  battles  were  always  fought  near  at  hand,  and  the  ships 
always  ran  alongside  of  each  other,  the  manoeuvres  of  the 
fleets  could  not  be  so  various  or  so  important,  as  where  the 
ships  remain  at  a  certam  distance,  and  manoeuvres  are  per- 
formed during  the  whole  action.  But  though  the  naval 
tactics  of  the  moderns  are  more  difficult  and  intricate,  we 
must  not  infer  that  the  naval  battles  of  the  ancients  were 
comparatively  insignificant.  They  decided  wars  in  ancient 
times  much  more  frequently  than  in  modern ;  and  if  the  loss 
of  men  is  to  be  taken  into  consideration,  it  might  easily  be 
shown,  that  one  naval  battle  of  the  ancients  often  swept  away 
more  men,  than  three  or  even  more  in  our  age. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


The  character  of  the  statesmen  in  republics  like  the  Grecian 
must,  in  many  respects,  differ  from  the  statesmen  of  the 
modern  European  monarchies ;  and  can  be  sketched  with 
difficulty.  Yet  it  is  necessary  to  form  a  distinct  conception 
of  the  sphere  of  action  in  which  those  men  exerted  them- 
selves, who  justly  form  the  pride  of  antiquity.  But  it  may 
seem  the  less  superfluous  to  enter  into  this  subject,  since 
we  shall  thus  gain  an  opportunity  of  forming  more  correct 
opinions  respecting  several  of  those  men.  Though  Athens 
was  their  home  and  the  theatre  of  their  actions,  they  were 
the  property  of  Greece  ;  and  are  here  to  be  held  up  as  the 
representatives  of  so  many  others,  of  whom  history  has  pre- 
served for  us  less  information,  because  they  made  their  ap- 
peamnce  in  cities  of  less  renown. 

The  different  character  of  the  Grecian  states  necessarily 
exercised  an  influence  on  the  character  of  the  statesmen, 
who  appeared  in  them.  Wliere  the  law  exercised  unlimited 
power,  as  it  did  in  Sparta,  there  was  no  room  for  dema- 
gogues Hke  those  of  Athens.    But  difference  of  time  was  as 


174 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   XIII. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


175 


influential  as  the  difference  of  constitutions.  How  then 
could  it  be  otherwise  expected,  than  that  with  the  increas- 
ing culture  of  the  nation,  there  should  be  a  change  in  the 
influence  and  the  conduct  of  those  who  were  at  its  head. 

In  the  age  of  Solon,  men  first  appeared  in  the  mother 
country,  who  were  worthy  of  the  name  of  statesmen.  Many 
had  before  that  period  been  in  possession  of  power,  and  not 
unfrequently  had  become  tyrants ;  but  none  can  be  called 
statesmen,  as  the  word  itself  denotes,  except  those  who  as 
freemen  conduct  the  affairs  of  cultivated  nations. 

In  Solon's  age,^  the  relations  of  the  Grecian  states  had 
not  yet  become  intricate.  No  one  of  them  exercised  sway 
over  the  rest ;  and  no  one  endeavoured  to  do  so  ;  even  the 
importance  of  Sparta  in  the  Peloponnesus  was  founded  on 
her  attempts  to  liberate  the  cities  from  the  yoke  of  the 
tyrants.  In  such  a  period,  when  the  individual  states  were 
chiefly  occupied  with  their  own  concerns  and  those  of  their 
nearest  neighbours,  the  statesman's  sphere  of  action  could 
not  for  any  length  of  time  be  extended  beyond  the  internal 
government  and  administration.  The  seven  wise  men,  from 
whom  the  Greeks  date  the  age  in  which  politics  began  to 
be  a  science,  were  not  speculative  philosophers,  but  rulers, 
presidents,  and  counsellors  of  states ;  rulers,  as  Periander  of 
Corinth  and  Pittacus  of  Mitylene  ;  presidents,  as  Solon  of 
Athens,  Chilo  of  Sparta,  Cleobulus  of  Lindus  ;  counsellors, 
as  Bias  and  Thales,  of  princes  and  cities.^  Of  these,  Solon 
is  the  only  one  with  whom  we  are  much  acquainted  ;  he  is 
known  as  a  lawgiver,  and  also  as  a  soldier  and  poet.  But  it 
was  not  till  after  the  wars  with  Persia,  that  the  men  ap- 
peared whom  we  can  call  statesmen  in  the  modern  sense 
of  the  word.  For  it  was  then  for  the  first  time,  when  a 
contest  arose  with  a  nation  to  all  appearances  infinitely  su- 
perior in  power,  and  the  question  of  existence  was  at  issue, 
and  when  good  counsel  was  not  less  important  than  action, 
that  a  greater  political  interest  was  excited,  which  employed 
the  strongest  minds.  And  this  interest  was  not  and  could 
not  be  transitory.  For  it  gave  birth  in  Greece  to  the  idea 
of  supremacy,  which  a  single  state  obtained  and  preserved 

*  Between  600  and  550  years  B.  C. 

*  See  Diog.  Laert.  i.  c.  1—5.  The  passages  which  relate  to  them,  have 
already  been  collected  and  illustrated  by  Meiners  and  other  wi'iters  on  the 
history  of  philosophy.    Meiners's  Geschichte  der  Wissenschaften,  i.  p.  43. 


for  nearly  seventy  years  ;  and  which,  as  we  have  already  re- 
marked,'  became  the    foundation   of  its  greatness  and  its 
splendour.    Political  affairs  and  negotiations  were  now  to 
be  judged  of  by  a  new  criterion.     The  foreign  relations 
were  now  the  most  important;    and  it  was  in  conducting 
them,  that  the  first  statesmen  were  employed.     But  their 
sphere  of  action  was  by  no  means  limited  to  Athens  alone ; 
it  was  in  some  measure  extended  over  the  whole  of  Greece. 
The  object  of  these  men  was,  and  could  not  but  be,  to 
gain  influence  in  a  community,  in  which  some  inequality 
was  produced  by  birth,  (as  certain  families,  like  those  of  the 
Eupatridae,  were  held  superior  to  the  rest,  forming  a  sort  of 
nobility,  and  even  a  political  party,)  yet  in  which  birth  had 
very  little  influence  on  future  consequence.     In  Athens,  as 
in  England,  certain  families  or  classes  of  families  advocated 
certain  political  ideas  and  principles,  by  means  of  which  the 
democratic  and  aristocratic  parties  were  formed,  and  kept 
up  amidst  a  variety  of  changes.    But  the  history  of  Athens 
still  abounds  in  proofs,  that  the  influence  possessed  over  the 
people  by  no  means  depended  on  birth.    Here,  as  in  the 
other  similar  states,  there  were  two  methods  of  gaining  such 
influence ;  by  deeds  in  war,  and  in  peace  by  counsel.    In 
some  periods,  military  glory  was  the  most  esteemed ;  in 
others,  influence  could  be  gained  without  it.     In  the  early 
period,  during  the  war  with  the  Persians,  the  commanders 
of  the  armies  were  also  statesmen;  and  how  could  it  be 
otherwise  ?  But  when  the  affairs  of  peace  grew  more  import- 
ant, a  new  course  was  opened  to  the  man  of  genius.    Yet 
it  was  long  before  the  statesman,  as  such,  could  rise  in 
Athens ;  the  qualifications  of  a  general  long  remained  es- 
sential to  his  influence;    though  the  age  finally  came,  in 
which  the  former  began  to  be  of  more  consequence  than  the 
latter.    We  shall  not  therefore  expose  ourselves  to  the  dan- 
ger of  being  misapprehended,  if  we  distinguish  the  three 
periods  from  one  another ;    the  first,  in  which  the  states- 
man was  subordinate  to  the  general ;  the  next,  in  which  the 
general  was  subordinate  to  the  statesman  ;  and  the  third,  in 
which  the  statesman  acted  independently  of  the  general. 
Without   any  elaborate  argument,  the  reader  will  imme- 
diately perceive,  that  here  a  certain  relation  exists  to  the 
increasing  culture  of  the  nation ;  the  mere  military  com- 


« 


176 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XIII. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


Ill 


mander  may  rule  a  nation  of  barbarians ;  but  the  statesman 
who  has  no  pretensions  to  the  qualifications  of  a  general 
finds  no  place  except  among  a  cultivated  people.  To  mark 
more  distinctly  the  limits  of  the  three  periods,  we  will  call  the 
first  that  of  Themistocles,  the  second  that  of  Pericles,  and 
the  third  that  of  Demosthenes. 

In  the  first  age  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  that  the  qualities  of 
a  commander  were   of  more  importance  than  those  of  a 
statesman.    The  state  was  to  be  saved  on  the  field  of  battle  • 
and  yet  prudence  was  needed  for  its  safety  no  less  than 
courage.    Themistocles  himself  may  be  regarded  as  the  re- 
presentative of  this  period.     Destined  by  nature  to  become 
a  demagogue  rather  than  a  general,  he  was  still  forced  by 
the  character  and  the  spirit  of  his  age  to  build  his  political 
influence  on  his  militaiy  fame.    He  owed  his  greatness  to 
the  Persian  war  and  Salamis.    But  as  a  general,  he  is  per- 
haps the  most  perfect  model  of  a  popular  leader,  who  effects 
less  by  commands  than  by  persuasion  and  knowledge  of 
men.    His  nation  recognised  in  him  the  most  prudent  of  its 
citizens ;  and  he  understood  his  nation  better  than  any  one, 
not  merely  collectively,  but  individually.    Hence  proceeded 
his  influence.    "  He  was  most  distinguished,"  says  Thucy- 
dides,^  "  for  the  strength  of  his  natural  powers ;  and  for  this 
he  is  the  most  admirable  of  men.    His  understanding  made 
him  the  most  acute  observer  of  every  unexpected  incident, 
without  any  previous  or  subsequent  inquiries ;  and  gave  him 
the  most  accurate  foresight  of  the  future.    Whatever  he 
undertook,  he  was  able  to  execute;   and  to  form  a  true 
judgment  on  whatever  was  new  to  him.    In  doubtful  mat- 
ters,  he   could    best   tell  what  was  to  be  done  or  to  be 
avoided ;    and,  in  a  word,  he  was  the  first  for  strength  of 
natural  powers,  and  for  promptness  of  decision."    Happy 
the  state  which  is  favoured  with  such  a  citizen  !    Even  in 
great  dangers  it  has  no  need  to  fear.    He  who  considers  the 
whole  history  of  Themistocles,  will  admire  him  less  for  his 
deeds  of  heroism,  than  for  the  manner  in  which  he  pre- 
served the  courage  of  his  nation,  and  in  the  decisive  mo- 
ment brought  them  to  the  decisive  measure,  rather  to  enter 
their  ships  and  desert  their  native  city,  than  subject  them- 
selves to  the  Persian  yoke.     Such  things  can  be  done  only 

'  Thucyd.  i.  138. 


by  a  man  of  superior  genius.  It  is  true  that  his  great 
talents  were  united  to  a  character,  which  was  not  entirely 
free  from  selfishness.^  But  the  interests  of  his  country  were 
never  sacrificed  to  his  private  advantage.  And  in  judging 
of  Themistocles,  it  must  never  be  forgotten,  that  he  was  the 
first  who,  without  family,  rose  to  eminence  in  Athens,  and 
destroyed  the  power  of  the  nobility.^  This  could  never  be 
forgiven  him ;  and  it  is  not  strange,  that,  persecuted  as  he 
was  by  Sparta,  he  should  have  been  overwhelmed  by  his 
foreign  and  domestic  enemies.  But  when  he  quitted  un- 
grateful Athens,  his  object  was  already  accomplished.  He 
had  practically  demonstrated  that  he  understood  the  art 
which  he  vaunted,  of  making  of  a  small  state  a  large  one. 
The  reception  with  which  he  met  in  Persia,  does  no  less 
honour  to  him  than  to  Artaxerxes ;  and  although  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  did  not  escape  serving  against  his 
country  by  a  voluntary  death,^  it  is  certain  that  he  did  no- 
thing which  could  sully  his  fame. 

If  Themistocles  shows  how  talents  could  rise  in  a  state 
like  Athens,  Aristides  is  an  example  of  the  influence  of 
character.  His  influence  and  his  share  in  public  business 
were  grounded  on  the  conviction  of  his  honesty  and  disin- 
terestedness ;  although  he  also  needed  the  support  of  mili- 
tary glory.  As  early  as  at  Marathon,  he,  as  one  of  the  ten 
generals,  stood  by  the  side  of  Miltiades ;  and  had  himself 
the  magnanimity  to  yield  to  him  the  supreme  command.* 
At  Plataese,  he  was  the  leader  of  the  Athenians ;  and  after 
the  liberties  of  Greece  had  been  rescued  by  this  victory, 
and  Athens  had  established  its  supremacy  in  the  alliance 
against  Persia,  he  was  appointed,  at  the  request  of  the  allies, 
to  superintend  the  general  exchequer,  and  performed  the 
most  diflficult  oflSce  of  fixing  for  each  of  them  its  proportion 
of  the  annual  tribute.^  Thus  Athens  owed  to  him  not  much 

*  See  in  particular  the  relation  of  the  corruption  of  the  Grecian  generals  by 
the  Euboeans.    Herod,  viii.  5. 

'  Plutarch,  in  Themistoc.  Op.  1.  p.  438. 

'  **  He  died,"  says  Thucydides,  "of  disease.  Some  say  he  died  of  poison, 
which  he  took  because  he  could  not  perform  all  that  he  had  promised  the 
king."  Thucyd.  i.  138.  Thucydides  says  nothing  of  the  tradition,  that  he 
destroyed  himself  by  drinking  bull's  blood.  Plutarch.  Op.  i.  p.  498.  The 
story  seems  therefore  to  have  received  additions ;  Thucydides  spe^s  so  de- 
cisively, that  he  could  hardly  have  doubted  the  natural  death  of  Themistocles. 

*  Plutarch.  Op.  i.  p.  489. 

'  "  Aristides,"  says  Plutarch,  "  made  inquiries  respecting  the  territory  and 

N 


178 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.   XIII. 


less  than  to  Themistocles,  who  had  been  his  rival  from 
youth.  If  political  and  moral  principles  rendered  the  union 
of  the  two  impossible,  (nothing  but  the  urgent  necessities  of 
the  country  effected  it  for  a  short  time,)  it  must  not  be  for- 
gotten, that  Aristides,  though  probably  of  no  opulent  family  * 
belonged  by  his  birth  to  the  class  of  the  Eupatridse. 

Cimon,  the  son  of  Miltiades,  the  third  whom  we  should 
name  in  this  first  period,  connects  it,  as  it  were,  with  the 
succeeding.      He  too  was  more  of  a  general  than  a  states- 
man.    His  policy  had  but  one  object,  continual  war  ao-ainst 
the  Persians,  as  the  means  of  preserving  the  unity  of  the 
Greeks.      This  he  pursued  through  his  whole  life,  from  the 
battle  of  Salamis,  (and  he  had  been  the  first  to  give  the  ex- 
ample of  deserting  the  city  and  entering  the  ships,^)    till 
shortly  before  the  glorious  peace  which  he  had  promoted, 
but  did  not  Hve  to  see  concluded.^     He  seems,  therefore,  to 
have  taken  no  further  share  in  the  internal  affairs,  than  he 
was  forced  to  do  by  his  situation.      For  descended  from  a 
noble  family,  and  a  pupil  of  Aristides,  possessing  the  prin- 
ciples of  his  political  instructer,  he  desired  the  favour  of  the 
people,  only  as  the  means  of  preserving  his  character  as  a 
military  commander;    and  yet  he  did  not  escape  the  lot 
which  had  fallen  to  Themistocles  and  Aristides.      But  his 
military  fame  procured  his  speedy  return ;  and  confirmed 
him,  as  It  increased,  in  the  possession  of  his  place.     It  was 
by  the  means  which  Cimon  used  to  preserve  the  favour  of  the 
people,  that  he  held  a  place,  as  we  have  observed,  between 
the  first  and  second  period.     His  liberality  was  not  confined 
to  citizens  alone ;  even  he  began  to  attract  attention  by 
public  improvements,  made  for  the  most  part  at  his  own  ex- 
pense.    Themistocles  had  fortified  the  city  and  the  Piraeeus ; 
and  Cimon  began  to  ornament  them.      With  the  Persian 
spoils  he  built  a  part  of  the  walls  of  the  citadel.^     He  caused 
the  marshy  ground  at  its  side^  to  be  dried  and  paved;  he 

revenue  of  the  several  states ;  and  fixed  accordinfflv  the  tribute  of  parh  stiite 

^JeTlttf^^^^^^     ^^'^\''^:  "•  P-  ^^-      "  BuTet^^^^^^^^^     'th^ 
fh^  .  lil^    •    character,  which  had  gained  for  Athens  the  supremacy.    For 

unreme  co^^^^^^^^  ^^^i^^d  him  to  assume  the 

XnTaVs~c1mon!'^"''-  "  ^'  ''''     ^e  was  at  that  time  general  of  the 

'  How  uncertain  this  was,  appears  from  Plqtarch.  iii.  p.  478. 

Plutarch.  Op.  m.  p.  181.  »  He  died  in  thp  vPflr  44Q  B  P 

^  Plutarch.  Op.  iii.  I  202.  *  Called  aU^^^^^^       ^^  ^'  ^' 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


179 


prepared  an  abode  for  Plato  and  his  philosophy,  by  convert- 
ing the  barren  field,  which  occupied  the  site  of  the  Aca- 
demy, into  a  lovely,  well-watered  grove ;  and  for  the  Athe- 
nians, he  made  the  market-place  their  most  favourite  place 
of  resort,  by  planting  it  with  plane-trees.^  He  was  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  artists  of  his  time,  especially  with  the 
painter  Polygnotus;  to  whose  art  and  patriotism,  the 
Athenians  were  indebted  for  the  paintings  which  decorated 
the  most  celebrated  of  their  public  halls.^ 

Cimon  may  therefore  justly  be  styled  the  precursor  of 
Pericles,  whose  name  we  use  to  designate  the  second  period. 
The  time  was  arrived,  when  the  arts  of  peace  were  to  flourish 
no  less  than  those  of  war  ;  when  almost  every  branch  of  the 
arts  and  of  literature  was  to  put  forth  its  most  beautiful  and 
most  imperishable  blossoms. 

Under  such  circumstances,  and  in  a  republic,  of  which 
no  one  could  possess  the  direction  without  understanding 
the  means  of  winning  and  preserving  the  respect  and  admir- 
ation of  his  fellow-citizens,  it  is  obvious,  that  new  qualities 
were  necessary  in  the  statesman,  and  new  requisitions  made 
of  him.  The  reciprocal  influence  which  exists  between 
men  of  genius  and  their  age,  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting inquiries  for  which  history  presents  us  the  mate- 
rials. When  we  survey  the  several  periods  in  which,  at  a 
greater  or  less  distance,  the  remarkable  changes  of  indivi- 
dual nations,  and  even  of  a  large  part  of  mankind,  have 
taken  place,  we  shall  always  find  in  them  individual  men, 
who  may  in  some  measure  be  regarded  as  the  representa- 
tives of  their  age  ;  and  who  frequently  and  justly  lend  their 
names  to  it.  They  can  in  a  certain  degree  rise  above  their 
age ;  but  they  do  not  the  less  remain  children  of  the  time  in 
which  they  live  ;  and  a  history  of  mankind,  as  contained  in 
the  history  of  these  leading  minds,  would  perhaps  be  the 
most  faithful  that  can  be  given.  He  who  has  truly  deli- 
neated Herrman  and  Caesar,  or  Gregory,  or  Luther,  or 
Frederic,  has  sketched  the  chief  traits  of  their  respective 
ages.  To  be  in  advance  of  one's  age,  as  is  the  usual  mode 
of  expression,  means  but  to  understand  one's  age  correctly 

*  Plutarch.  1.  c. 

^  Plutarch.  Op.  ii.  p.  178.     Hence  called  the  variegated,  TronctXi;.     It  was 
adjoining  to  the  forum. 

N  2 


180 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XIII. 


in  all  its  bearings ;  and  to  act  on  the  principles  which  re- 
sult from  such  knowledge.  In  this  lies  the  secret  of  great 
men,  that  no  one  can  betray  them,  because  no  one  shares 
their  penetration,  or  rather  in  many  cases  their  presaging 
insight  into  the  future.  On  hearing  the  age  of  Pericles 
mentioned,  a  crowd  of  glorious  associations  is  called  up ;  he 
who  becomes  more  profoundly  acquainted  with  it,  soon  finds 
that  no  pure  ideal  of  perfection  then  existed.  To  behold 
the  mere  citizen  of  a  republic,  raising  his  nation,  and  by 
means  of  his  nation  all  mankind,  to  a  higher  position,  is  a 
spectacle  which  history  has  never  but  once  been  able,  under 
similar  circumstances,  to  repeat,  in  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent. 
Enviable  men,  around  whose  brows  the  unfading  laurel 
twines  its  verdure  !  If  fame  in  succeeding  generations,  if 
the  grateful  remembrance  of  posterity,  is  no  vain  felicity, 
who  would  not  willingly  exchange  his  claims  for  yours  ? 

In  his  political  course,  Pericles  was  guided  by  a  simple 
principle ;  to  be  the  first  in  his  own  city,  whilst  he  secured 
to  it  the  first  place  among  cities.  Its  political  preponder- 
ance depended  on  the  preservation  of  its  supremacy  over 
Greece ;  and  this  was  to  be  preserved,  not  by  force  alone ; 
but  by  every  thing  which,  according  to  Grecian  ideas,  could 
render  a  city  illustrious.  Hence  he  felt  himself  the  neces- 
sity of  improving  his  mind  more  variously  than  had  hitherto 
been  common  in  Athens ;  and  he  availed  himself  for  that 
end  of  all  the  means  which  his  age  aflPorded  him.  He  was 
the  first  statesman,  who  felt  that  a  certain  degree  of  acquaint- 
ance with  philosophy  was  requisite  ;  not  in  order  to  involve 
his  mind  in  the  intricacies  of  a  system,  but  to  exercise  him- 
self in  thinking  with  freedom ;  and  he  became  the  pupil  of 
Anaxagoras.^  If  before  no  orators,  except  those  appointed 
by  the  state,  had  spoken  in  the  popular  assemblies,  he  was 
the  first  who  came  forward  as  a  voluntary  orator  ;  ^  and  the 
study  of  eloquence  was  necessary  for  him,  although  he  never 
made  the  duties  of  an  active  statesman  subordinate  to  those 
of  a  public  speaker.  Whilst  he  ornamented  Athens  by 
those  master-pieces  of  architecture  and  the  arts  of  design,  he 
was  not  the  patron,  but  the  personal  friend  of  a  Phidias  and 

'  In  proof  of  this  and  the  following  account,  consult  Plutarch  in  the  bio- 
graphy of  Pericles.     Op.  T.  ii. 

2  Plutarch  makes  a  distinction  between  him  and  the  orators  appointed  by 
the  state  ;  1.  c.  p.  601.     See  Petit,  de  Leg.  Att.  iii.  3. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


181 


similar  men  ;  and  who  does  not  know,  that  his  intimacy  with 
Aspasia,  his  friend,  liis  mistress,  and  at  last  his  wife,  impart- 
ed to  his  mind  that  finer  culture,  which  he  would  have 
looked  for  in  vain  among  the  women  of  Athens.      But  all 
this  he  made  subservient  to  his  public  career.     He  desired 
to  be  altogether  a  statesman,  and  he  was  so.      "  There  was 
in  the  whole  city,"  says  Plutarch,^  "  but  one  street  in  which 
he  was  ever  seen ;  the  street  which  led  to  the  market-place 
and   the    council-house.     He   declined   all   invitations   to 
banquets,  and  all  gay  assemblies  and  company.     During 
the  whole  period  of  his  administration,  he  never  dined  at 
the  table  of  a  friend  ;  he  did  but  just  make  his  appearance 
at  the  nuptials  of  his  nephew  Euryptolemus ;    but  immedi- 
ately after  the  libation  '^  he  arose.     He  did  not  always  ap- 
pear even  in  the  popular  assemblies ;  but  only  when  im- 
portant business  was  to  be  transacted  ;  smaller  concerns  he 
intrusted  to  his  friends  and  the  orators."     Thus  Pericles  ex- 
hibited the  model  of  a  statesman,  such  as  Greece  had  never 
yet  seen,  and  was  not  to  see  again.     His  history  shows,  that 
he  became  great  amidst  the  collision  of  parties  ;  all  of  which 
he  finally  annihilated ;  and  we  need  not  therefore  be  aston- 
ished, if  the  opinions  of  his  contemporaries  were  not  united 
in  his  favour.     We  learn  of  Plutarch,^  how  zealously  the 
comic  poets  attacked  him.     But  he  has  gained  the  voice  of 
one  man,  whose  authority  surpasses  that  of  all  the  rest,  the 
voice  of  Thucydides.     "  So  long  as  he  presided  over  the 
state  in  peace,"  says  the  historian,*  "  he  did  it  with  modera- 
tion; the  state  was  preserved  in  its  integrity,  and  was  even 
advanced  under  him  to  its  highest  degree  of  greatness.  When 
the  war  broke  out,  he  showed  that  he  had  macle  a  just  cal- 
culation of  his  strength.     The  first  in  dignity  and  pinidence, 
he  was  superior  to  all  suspicion  of  corruption  ;  he  therefore 
swayed  the  people  almost  at  will ;  he  guided  them,  and  was 
not  guided  by  them  ;  for  he  did  not  speak  according  to  their 
humour,  but  often  opposed  them  with  dignity  and  even  with 
vehemence.    If  they  were  inchned  to  do  any  thing  unreason- 

*  Plutarch.  Op.  ii.  p.  601. 

'  That  is,  at  the  beginning  of  the  repast.  These  little  traits  seem  to  me  to 
designate  the  man,  who  never  forgave  himself  any  thing.  What  nobler  ob- 
ject can  be  contemplated,  than  a  great  statesman,  who,  living  entirely  for  his 
high  calling,  and  living  worthily  of  it,  spares  only  moments  for  himself. 

3  As,  e.  g..  Op.  ii.  p.  592.  *  Thucyd.  ii.  ^h. 


182 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  XIII. 


ably,  he  knew  how  to  restrain  them ;  if  they  suffered  their 
courage  to  sink  without  reason,  he  could  renew  their  confi- 
dence. His  administration  was  therefore  nominally  the 
government  of  the  people,  but  in  reality  the  government  of 
the  first  man."  To  a  character  described  by  such  a  master, 
no  additions  need  be  made ;  but  we  cannot  omit  to  observe, 
that  Pericles,  though  so  great  as  a  statesman,  was  not  un- 
mindful of  the  fame  of  military  command.  In  this  the  rule 
of  his  conduct  seems  to  have  been,  great  prudence,  and  to 
undertake  nothing  without  the  greatest  probability  of  suc- 
cess ;  and  such  was  the  confidence  reposed  in  him,  that,  in 
the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  administration,  he  seems  to  have 
held  the  place  of  general  without  interruption.^ 

While  we  render  to  Pericles  the  tribute  of  just  admir- 
ation, we  ought  not  to  forget  that  he  was  favoured  by  the 
circumstances  of  his  times.  A  man  like  him  is  capable  of 
effecting  much  when  the  state,  of  which  he  is  the  head,  is 
flourishing,  and  the  people  itself  is  constantly  unfolding  ta- 
lents and  powers,  of  which  he  must  be  able  to  take  advan- 
tage. Pericles  himself  never  could  have  played  his  part  a 
second  time  ;  how  much  less  those  who  were  his  successors ! 
Of  these  history  has  but  one  to  mention,  of  whom  we  must 
take  notice,  because  he  belonged,  in  a  certain  sense,  not 
merely  to  Athens,  but  to  Greece;  we  mean  Alcibiades. 
The  age  in  which  he  appeared  was  altogether  warlike ;  and 
of  this  he  merits  the  blame.  He  needed,  therefore,  the  qua- 
lifications of  a  general  more  than  those  of  a  statesman.  Still 
it  may  be  said  with  confidence,  that  even  in  better  times  he 
would  not  have  become  a  Pericles,  although  he  seemed 
destined  by  birth,  talents,  and  fortune  to  play  a  similar  part. 
Pericles  regarded,  in  every  thing,  first  the  state  and  then 
himself;  Alcibiades,  on  the  contrary,  first  himself  and  then 
the  state.  Is  more  needed  to  delineate  his  character  as  a 
statesman  ?  Vanity  was  his  leading  trait.  He  is  thus  de- 
scribed by  the  same  great  historian,  who  has  drawn  for  us 
the  picture  of  Pericles.  "  Although  Alcibiades,"  says  he,' 
"  was  distinguished  among  his  fellow-citizens  for  his  wealth 
and  consequence,  his  desires  were  always  greater  than  his 

'  Namely,  after  his  victory  over  his  antagonist,  the  elder  Thucydides,  who 
was  supported  by  the  party  of  the  Optimates.     Plutarch.  Op.  ii.  p.  626,  627. 
^  Thucyd.  vi.  15.  *        x-        / 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


183 


fortune;  particularly  of  keeping  splendid  equipages,  and 
supporting  other  extravagances;  which  contributed  not  a 
little  to  the  downfal  of  the  Athenians."  His  history  is  so 
well  known,  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  establish  these  re- 
marks by  any  particular  references ;  his  whole  life  from  be- 
ginning to  end  is  a  confirmation  of  them. 

The  men  who  have  thus  far  been  named,  united,  though 
in  different  degrees,  the  characters  of  the  statesman  and  the 
general.  By  what  means  was  such  an  entire  separation  of 
the  two  produced,  as  may  be  observed  in  the  third  period, 
which  we  have  named  from  Demosthenes  ?  The  name  alone 
explains  to  us  distinctly  enough,  that  the  reason  is  to  be 
looked  for  in  the  dominion  of  eloquence ;  but  the  question 
remains  still  to  be  answered.  Why  and  from  what  causes  did 
eloquence  obtain  so  late  its  ascendency  in  politics  ? 

We  do  not  read  that  Themistocles  and  Aristides  were 
skilled  in  oratory  as  an  art.  It  is  certain,  that  of  all  practi- 
cal statesmen,  Pericles  was  the  first  who  deserved  that  praise ; 
although  it  is  uncertain  whether  he  took  advantage  of  the 
instructions  which  then  began  to  be  given  by  the  teachers 
of  eloquence.^  But  though  the  orations  of  Pericles  were 
artfully  composed,  they  cannot  be  called  works  of  art  in  the 
same  sense  with  those  of  Demosthenes  and  his  contempora- 
ries. As  Pericles  left  no  writings,  it  must  remain  undecided 
whether  he  wrote  out  his  speeches  word  for  word.  A  cir- 
cumstance, of  which  the  memory  is  preserved  by  Plutarch, 
appears  to  make  this  very  uncertain.  "  He  was  accustomed," 
says  the  biographer,^  '^  whenever  he  was  to  speak  in  public, 
previously  to  entreat  the  gods,  that  he  might  not  utter, 
against  his  will,  any  word  which  should  not  belong  to  the  sub- 
ject." Does  not  this  seem  to  show,  that  he  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  write  his  orations,  and  deliver  them  from  memory, 
but  that  he  rather  left  much  to  be  filled  up  by  the  impulse 
of  the  moment  ?  The  speech  which  Thucydides  represents 
him  to  have  delivered,^  is  the  work  of  the  historian ;  but 

'  According  to  Plutarch,  i.  p.  594,  the  sophist  Damon  was  his  instructer ; 
but,  as  it  appears,  rather  his  political  counsellor,  than  his  regular  instructer 
in  eloquence.  He  made  use  of  the  pretext,  says  Plutarch,  or  teaching  him 
music.  Gorgias  of  Leontium,  who  is  commonly  mentioned  as  beginning  the 
class  of  sophists,  can  hardly  have  been  his  master.  See  the  fragment  from 
the  Schol.  ad  Hermog.  ap.  Keisk.  Or.  Gr.  viii.  p.  195. 

'  Plut.  Op.  ii.  p.  604.  '  Thucyd,  ii.  60. 


184 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XIII. 


we  can  judge  from  that  and  other  similar  discourses  con- 
tained in  the  same  author,  of  the  character  of  public  elo- 
quence before  and  during  the  Peloponnesian  war;  since 
they  could  not  but  be  composed  in  the  taste  and  after  the 
manner  of  the  times.  But  how  do  they  differ  in  style  from 
those  of  the  age  of  Demosthenes  !  How  much  less  can 
those  orations,  great  as  are  their  various  merits,  be  consi- 
dered as  classic  models  in  the  art  of  eloquence  !  We  find 
in  them  little  or  nothing  of  an  artificial  plan  ;  little  of  that 
rhetorical  amplification  and  those  figures  and  artifices,  by 
which  the  later  orators  produced  an  effect  on  their  hearers. 
We  justly  admire  in  them  the  strength  of  many  of  their 
thoughts,  and  single  expressions  and  passages.  But  they 
seem  to  prove  beyond  a  question,  that  the  rhetorical  style 
was  not  then  formed  at  Athens.  They  have  far  more  the 
character  of  martial  addresses ;  they  bear  the  impress  of  an 
age,  in  which  the  orator  in  the  popular  assemblies  was  at 
the  same  time  the  commander  in  war.^ 

And  by  what  means  did  Grecian  eloquence  in  public 
speaking  gain  that  peculiar  character,  which  it  possessed  in 
the  age  of  Demosthenes  ?  The  origin  and  progress  of  pub- 
lic speaking  always  depends  in  a  certain  degree  on  external 
circumstances.  It  is  not  enough  that  the  constitution  leaves 
room  for  it ;  for  then  it  would  have  come  to  perfection  in 
other  Grecian  cities,  and  in  Athens  at  a  much  earlier  period 
than  it  did.  Neither  can  we  assume  the  artificial  disposition 
of  the  parts  of  a  discourse  and  the  instruction  given  in 
rhetoric,  as  the  standard  by  which  to  judge  of  the  actual  ap- 
pearance of  great  political  orators.  External  circumstances 
must  also  be  such  as  to  make  the  want  of  orators  per- 
ceptible. And  when  can  this  take  place  in  free  republics, 
except  in  times — not  of  war,  for  there  arms  must  decide ; 
but  rather  in  times  of  impending  dangers,  which  may  yet 
be  averted  by  prudence  and  courageous  resolutions  ?  In 
such  times  the  public  speaker  is  in  his  place  ;  he  beholds 
the  field  of  glory  opened  before  him;  and  if  no  other 
motive  than  patriotism  should  lead  him  to  ascend  the  stage 
from  which  the  people  was  addressed,  where  could  his 
bosom  be  warmed  by  a  nobler  inspiration  ? 

*  111  the  masterly  sketch  which  is  given  by  Cicero,  in  Bruto,Ccap.  7— 13,  of  the 
succession  of  Greek  orators,  much  instruction  on  these  subjects  may  be  found. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


185 


This  was  the  case  in  Greece,  and  especially  in  Athens, 
during  the  age  of  Philip ;  for  it  was  Philip  who  called  forth 
a  Demosthenes.  Every  thing  which  was  needed  to  produce 
such  an  orator,  had  already  been  prepared.  The  form  of 
government  had  long  since  made  public  speaking  custom- 
ary, and  had  opened  a  place  for  its  influence.  Eloquence 
was  no  longer  regarded  as  merely  a  gift  of  nature,  but  as 
the  fruit  of  study ;  and  the  orator  spoke  to  a  people,  which 
was  sufficiently  well  informed,  to  understand  and  estimate  his 
merits.  To  this  were  added  those  external  causes,  the  diffi- 
cult relations  of  the  times.  Where  could  there  have  been 
a  better  field  for  great  public  speakers?  Where  would 
their  appearance  have  been  more  easily  accounted  for? 
Where  was  it  more  natural,  that  the  practical  statesman 
should  more  and  more  apply  himself  to  the  study  of 
eloquence,  and  thus  the  third  period  distinguished  by  us  be 
introduced,  in  which  the  mere  orator,  without  the  talents  of 
a  military  commander,  could  direct  the  affairs  of  the  state. 

But  when  we  investigate  the  history  of  practical  eloquence 
in  Greece,  (for  we  speak  of  that,  and  not  of  the  theory,)  we 
are  soon  led  to  remark,  what  deserves  to  be  carefully  con- 
sidered ;  that  in  this  last  period  of  time,  political  eloquence 
and  that  of  the  bar  became  much  more  closely  connected  than 
before.  The  men  who  in  the  earlier  times  had  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  state,  Pericles,  Alcibiades,  and  the  rest,  did  not 
make  their  way  to  eminence  through  the  business  of  advo- 
cates. Though  in  individual  cases,  as  Pericles  in  that  of 
Cimon,^  they  appeared  as  accusers  in  public  trials,  they 
never  made  a  profession  of  pleading  in  the  courts  of  justice, 
as  did  the  orators  of  the  age  of  Demosthenes.  This  gives 
rise  to  an  important  question  in  the  history  of  practical 
politics  no  less  than  of  oratory.  When  did  the  advocates  in 
Greece  become  statesmen ;  and  by  what  means  did  they 
become  so  ? 

If  I  do  not  err,  it  is  not  difficult  to  prove,  that  during, 
and  by  means  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  the  labours  of  the 
advocate  and  the  statesman  first  came  to  be  united.  The 
state  trials,  as  is  apparent  from  our  remarks  in  a  preceding 
chapter  respecting  the  judicial  institutions,  produced  this 

^  Plutarch.  Op.  i.  p.  610.     And  even  then,  as  the  writer  remarks,  he  was 
rather  apparently  than  really  an  accuser. 


186 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XIII. 


result.  But  these  began  to  be  numerous  during  and  imme- 
diately after  that  war ;  and  they  could  not  have  become 
very  frequent,  though  individual  ones  occurred,  before  the 
spirit  of  faction,  which  supported  them,  had  taken  root  too 
deeply  to  be  extirpated.  Of  the  orators  with  whom  we  are 
acquainted,  Antiphon  is  the  earliest  who  must  here  be  men- 
tioned. The  sketch  drawn  of  him  by  Thucydides,  represents 
a  man,  who,  properly  an  advocate,  was  drawn  into  public 
affairs  against  his  inclination  ;  and  at  last  was  obliged  to 
defend  his  life  for  it.^  Of  his  contemporaries,  Andocides 
and  Lysias,  the  first  would  probably  have  long  played  a 
conspicuous  part  in  politics  but  for  his  restless  spirit  and  his 
want  of  morals.^  His  rival  Lysias,  to  judge  from  those  of 
his  orations  which  are  still  extant,  was  entirely  an  advocate ; 
but  these  were  chiefly  delivered  on  such  matters,  as  were 
considered  at  Athens  to  belong  to  public  questions  at  law ; 
and  the  eloquence  of  the  bar  naturally  rose  to  a  higher  de- 
gree of  consideration,  as  trials  not  only  were  multiplied, 
but  also  increased  in  importance.  In  this  manner,  by  the 
multitude  of  public  processes,  the  path  was  opened  to  the 
advocates  to  a  share  in  the  business  of  the  state  ;  and  the 
ideas  of  orator  and  statesman  became  inseparable.  This  is 
no  where  more  distinctly  perceived,  than  in  the  writings 
of  Isocrates,  which  are  so  often  instructive  on  these  subjects. 
He,  who  was  only  a  teacher  of  eloquence,  (for  he  was  con- 
scious of  being  too  timid  to  speak  in  public,)  esteemed 
himself  no  less  a  teacher  of  political  science ;  and  as  he 
never  delivered  discourses  concerning  public  affairs,  he 
wrote  respecting  them.'  Several  of  his  essays  are  of  the 
class  which  we  call  memorials,  directed  by  him  to  rulers 
and  kings ;  although  his  friends  had  warned  him,  how  dan- 
gerous this  kind  of  writing  might  prove  for  him.^  They 
produced  no  greater  effect  than  such  writings  commonly 
do,  where  they  are  not  supported  by  personal  connexions; 
but  no  one  will  deny,  that  his  instructions  contributed 
much  towards  the  education  of  many  orators  and  statesmen.* 
Nothing  would  be  more  superfluous,  than  the  desire  of 

'  Thucyd.  viii.  68.    *  Hauptmann  de  Andocide,  ap.  Reisk.  vol.  viii.  p.  535. 

*  See  m  particular  the  introduction  to  the  Panathenaicus.  Od.  p.  234,  etc. 

*  Orat.  ad.  Philip.  Op.  p.  85.  F  F         » 

*  Cic.  Brut.  c.  8.     Isocrates,  cujus  domus  cunctae  Graeciae  quasi  ludus  qui- 
dam  patuit,  atque  oflacina  dicendi  j  magnus  orator  et  perfectus  magister. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


187 


becoming  the  eulogist  of  that  master  in  his  art,  whom  the 
united  voice  of  so  many  centuries  has  declared  to  be  the 
first ;  and  whose  worth  the  only  rival  whom  antiquity  placed 
by  his  side,  has  described  in  a  manner  at  once  exact,  and 
equally  honourable  to  both.^  We  would  not  here  speak  of 
Demosthenes  the  orator,  but  of  Demosthenes  the  statesman; 
and  of  him  only  as  far  as  the  man,  the  orator,  and  the  states- 
man were  most  intimately  connected  in  him.  His  political 
principles  came  from  the  depths  of  his  soul ;  he  remained 
true  to  his  feelings  and  his  convictions,  amidst  all  changes 
of  circumstances  and  all  threatening  dangers.  Hence  he 
was  the  most  powerful  of  orators ;  because  with  him  there  was 
no  surrender  of  his  convictions,  no  partial  compromise,  in 
a  word,  no  trace  of  weakness.  This  is  the  real  essence  of 
his  art ;  every  thing  else  was  but  secondary.  And  in  this 
how  much  does  he  rise  above  Cicero  !  And  yet  who  ever 
suffered  more  severely  than  he  for  his  greatness  ?  Of  all 
political  characters,  Demosthenes  is  the  most  sublime  and 
purest^  tragic  character,  with  which  history  is  acquainted. 
When,  still  trembling  with  the  vehement  force  of  his  lan- 
guage, we  read  his  life  in  Plutarch ;  when  we  transfer  our- 
selves into  his  times  and  his  situation ;  we  are  carried  away 
by  a  deeper  interest,  than  can  be  excited  by  any  hero  of  the 
epic  muse  or  of  tragedy.  From  his  first  appearance  till  the 
moment  when  he  swallows  poison  in  the  temple,  we  see  him 
contending  against  destiny,  which  seems  to  mock  him  w^ith 
malignant  cruelty.  It  throws  him  to  the  ground,  but  never 
subdues  him.  What  a  flood  of  emotions  must  have  poured 
through  his  manly  breast  amidst  this  interchange  of  reviving 
and  expiring  hopes.  How  natural  was  it,  that  the  lines  of 
melancholy^  and  of  indignation,  such  as  we  behold  in  his 
bust,"*  should  have  been  imprinted  on  his  severe  countenance ! 
Hardly  had  he  passed  the  years  of  youth,  when  he  appeared 

'  Cicero  in  Bruto,  c.  9. 

^  He  was  naturally  calumniated  beyond  any  other.  And  yet  they  could 
bring  no  charge  against  him  but  his  silence  in  the  affair  of  Harpalus,  (see  be- 
low,) and  that  he  was  in  Persian  pay  ;  which  was  the  common  charge  against 
all  who  did  not  side  with  Philip.  Could  they  have  proved  it,  is  it  probable 
that  they  would  have  kept  back  their  proofs  ? 

'  His  adversary,  when  he  insultingly  said  that  Demosthenes  "  could  weep 
more  easily  than  other  men  could  laugh,"  iEschin.  in  Ctesiph.  Op.  iii.  p.  59/» 
Reisk.,  uttered  a  deeper  truth  than  he  himself  was  aware  of. 

*  Visconti,  Iconographie,  PI.  xxx. 


188 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[CIIAP,    XIII. 


in  his  own  behalf  as  the  accuser  of  his  faithless  guardians;^ 
from  whom,  however,  he  was  able  to  rescue  only  a  small 
part  of  his  patrimony.^  In  his  next  attempts,  insulted  by 
the  multitude,  though  encouraged  by  a  few  who  anticipated 
his  future  greatness,  he  supported  an  obstinate  contest  with 
himself,  till  he  gained  the  victory  over  his  own  nature/ 
He  now  appeared  once  more  as  an  accuser  in  public  pro- 
secutions,* before  he  ventured  to  speak  on  the  affairs  of  the 
state.  But  in  the  very  first  of  his  public  speeches^  we  see 
the  independent  statesman,  who  not  dazzled  by  a  splendid 
project,  opposes  a  vast  undertaking.  When  Philip  soon  after 
displayed  his  designs  against  Greece  by  his  interference  in 
the  Phocian  war,  he  for  the  first  time  appeared  against  that 
monarch  in  his  first  Philippic  oration.^  From  this  period 
he  had  found  the  great  business  of  his  life.  Sometimes  as 
counsellor,  sometimes  as  accuser,  sometimes  as  ambassador, 
he  protected  the  independence  of  his  country  against  the 
Macedonian  policy.  Splendid  success  seemed  at  first  to 
reward  his  exertions.  He  had  already  won  a  number  of 
states  for  Athens;^  when  Philip  invaded  Greece,  he  had 
already  succeeded  not  only  in  gaining  over  the  Thebans, 
but  in  kindling  their  enthusiasm  ;^  when  the  day  of  Chaero- 
nea  dashed  his  hopes  to  the  earth.  ^  But  he  courageously 
declares  in  the  assembly  of  the  people,  that  he  still  does  not 
repent  of  the  counsels  which  he  had  given. ^^  An  unexpected 
incident  changes  the  whole  aspect  of  things.  Philip  falls  the 

*  In  the  orations  against  Aphobus,  Op.  ii.  Reisk. 
'  Plutarch,  iv.  p.  700. 

'  Many  stories  came  subsequently  to  be  told  about  it ;  but  the  story  of  the 
pebble-stones  which  he  put  in  his  mouth,  rests  on  the  testimony  of  Demetrius 
Phalereus,  who  had  heard  it  from  the  orator  himself.  Plut.  iv.  p.  709.  The 
same  is  true  of  various  other  particulars. 

"*  Against  Androtion,  Timocrates,  and  others.  He  was  then  27  years  old. 
Plut.  p.  717. 

*  In  the  oration  of  the  avfifiopiai,  or  classeSj  pronounced  in  the  year  354 
B.  C.  He  opposed  an  offensive  war  against  the  Persians,  for  which  the 
Athenians  were  ready,  in  the  hope  of  effecting  a  general  union  of  the  Greeks. 
Here  we  already  find  the  maxim,  which  formed  the  theme  of  his  subsequent 
orations,  as  of  the  speeches  of  Chatham;  To  stand  on  one's  own  feet. 

*  Pronounced  in  the  year  352. 

'  Achaia,  Corinth,  Megara,  and  others.    Plut.  iv.  p.  720. 

'  Plut.  iv.  p.  722.     A  leading  passage  respecting  his  political  activity. 

*  In  the  year  338  B.  C. 

•  •"  Plut.  iv.  p.  726.  His  enemies  even  then  endeavoured  to  attack  him,  but 
in  vain.  The  people  assigned  to  him  the  funeral  oration  on  those  who  fell 
at  Chaeronea;  and  by  this  did  honour  to  him  and  to  themselves. 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


189 


victim  of  assassination;^  and  a  youth,  who  as  yet  is  but 
litde  known,  is  his  successor.  Immediately  Demosthenes 
institutes  a  second  alliance  of  the  Greeks;  but  Alexander 
suddenly  appears  before  Thebes ;  the  terrible  vengeance 
which  he  here  takes,  instantly  destroys  the  league ;  Demos- 
thenes, Lycurgus,  and  several  of  their  supporters,  are  re- 
quired to  be  delivered  up ;  but  Demades  is  at  that  time  able 
to  settle  the  difficulty  and  to  appease  the  king.^  His  strength 
was  therefore  enfeebled,  as  Alexander  departed  for  Asia ;  he 
begins  to  raise  his  head  once  more,  when  Sparta  attempts  to 
throw  off  the  yoke  ;^  but  under  Antipater  he  is  overpowered. 
Yet  it  was  about  this  very  time  that  by  the  most  celebrated 
of  his  discourses  he  gained  the  victory  over  the  most  elo- 
quent of  his  adversaries ;  and  ^schines  was  forced  to  depart 
from  Athens.*  But  this  seems  only  to  have  the  more  em- 
bittered his  enemies,  the  leaders  of  the  Macedonian  party ; 
and  they  soon  found  an  opportunity  of  preparing  his  down- 
fal.  When  Harpalus,  a  fugitive  from  the  army  of  Alex- 
ander, came  with  his  treasures  to  Athens,  and  the  question 
arose,  whether  he  could  be  permitted  to  remain  there,  De- 
mosthenes was  accused  of  having  been  corrupted  by  his 
money,  at  least  to  be  silent.^  This  was  sufficient  to  procure 
the  imposition  of  a  fine  ;^  and  as  this  was  not  paid,  he  was 
thrown  into  prison.  From  thence  he  succeeded  in  escaping ; 
but  to  the  man  who  lived  only  for  his  country,  exile  was  no 
less  an  evil  than  imprisonment.  He  resided  for  the  most 
part  in  iEgina  and  at  Troezen,  from  whence  he  looked  with 
moist  eyes  towards  the  neighbouring  Attica."^  Suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  a  new  ray  of  light  broke  through  the 
clouds.  Tidings  were  brought,  that  Alexander  was  dead.® 
The  moment  of  deliverance  seemed  at  hand  ;  the  excitement 
pervaded  every  Grecian  state ;  the  ambassadors  of  the 
Athenians  passed  through  the  cities ;  Demosthenes  joined 
himself  to  the  number,  and  exerted  all  his  eloquence  and 
power  to  unite  them  against  Macedonia.^     In  requital  for 

•  In  the  year  336  B.  C.  *  Plutarch,  iv.  p.  731. 
»  In  the  year  330  B.  C. 

*  The  oration  for  the  Crown.     The  trial  took  place  in  the  year  330  B.  C. 

*  Plutarch,  iv.  p.  733.  I  leave  it  to  the  reader  to  form  an  opinion  respect- 
ing the  anecdotes  which  are  there  related.  His  accuser  was  Dinarchus, 
whose  calumnious  oration  we  still  possess.     Or.  Gr.  vol.  iv.  Reisk. 

•  Of  50  talents  (not  far  from  45,000  dollars) ;  Plut.  iv.  p.  735. 

'  Plut.  iv.  736.  •  In  the  year  323.  »  Plut.  iv.  p.  737- 


190 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  xiii. 


such  services,  the  people  decreed  his  return ;  and  years  of 
sufferings  were  at  last  followed  by  a  day  of  exalted  com- 
pensation. A  galley  was  sent  to  JEgma  to  bring  back  the 
advocate  of  liberty.  All  Athens  was  in  motion  ;  no  magis- 
trate, no  priest  remained  in  the  city,  when  it  was  reported 
that  Demosthenes  was  advancing  from  the  Pirgeeus.^  Over- 
powered by  his  feelings,  he  extended  his  arms  and  declared 
himself  happier  than  Alcibiades;^  for  his  countrymen  had 
recalled  him,  not  by  compulsion,  but  from  choice.  It  was 
a  momentary  glimpse  of  the  sun,  which  still  darker  clouds 
were  soon  to  conceal.  Antipater  and  Craterus  were  victori- 
ous; and  with  them  the  Macedonian  party  in  Athens; 
Demosthenes  and  his  friends  were  numbered  among  the  ac- 
cused, and  at  the  instigation  of  Demades  were  condemned 
to  die.  They  had  already  withdrawn  in  secret  from  the 
city ;  but  where  could  they  find  a  place  of  refuge  ?  Hyper- 
ides  with  two  others  took  refuge  in  iEgina  in  the  temple  of 
Ajax.  In  vain  !  they  were  torn  away,  dragged  before  Anti- 
pater, and  executed.  Demosthenes  had  escaped  to  the  island 
Calauria  in  the  vicinity  of  Trcezen ;  and  took  refuge  in  the 
temple  of  Neptune.^  It  was  to  no  purpose  that  Archias, 
the  satellite  of  Antipater,  urged  him  to  surrender  himself 
under  promise  of  pardon.  He  pretended  he  wished  to  write 
something;  bit  the  quill,  and  swallowed  the  poison  con- 
tained in  it.  He  then  veiled  himself,  reclining  his  head 
backwards,  till  he  felt  the  operation  of  the  poison.  "0 
Neptune!"  he  exclaimed,  ''they  have  defiled  thy  temple; 
but  honouring  thee,  I  will  leave  it  while  yet  living."  But 
he  sank  before  the  altar,*  and  a  sudden  death  separated  him 
from  a  world,  which,  after  the  fall  of  his  country,  contained 
no  happiness  for  him.  Where  shall  we  find  a  character  of 
more  grandeur  and  purity  than  that  of  Demosthenes  ? 

It  seemed  by  no  means  superfluous  to  exhibit  a  picture 
of  Grecian  statesmen  during  that  period,  by  sketching  the 
history  of  him,  who  holds  the  first  rank  among  them.  We 
learn  from  it,  that  the  sphere  of  action  of  such  men,  though 
they  are  called  orators,  extended  far  beyond  their  orations. 

I  Plut.  iv.  p.  738.  *  Who  saw  a  similar  day  of  return. 

'  See,  for  the  following,  Plut.  iv.  p.  741. 

*  What  a  subject  for  the  art  of  sculpture !  and  yet  one,  which  has  never,  to 
my  knowledge,  been  made  use  of.  The  artist  would  only  need  to  draw  after 
Plutarch,  ^ 


STATESMEN  AND  ORATORS. 


191 


From  these,  it  is  true,  we  chiefly  derive  our  knowledge  of 
them.  But  how  differently  would  Demosthenes  appear  to 
us,  if  we  were  particularly  acquainted  with  the  details  of  his 
political  career!^  How  much  must  have  been  needed  to 
effect  such  an  alliance,  as  he  was  repeatedly  able  to  form ! 
What  journeys,  what  connexions,  what  skill  in  winning  per- 
sons of  influence,  and  in  managing  mankind  ! 

And  what  were  the  means  which  these  statesmen  of  anti- 
quity could  command,  when  we  compare  them  with  those 
of  modern  times?  They  had  no  orders  from  the  cabinet  to 
execute.  They  had  not  the  disposal  of  the  wealth  of  na- 
tions ;  they  could  not  obtain  by  force,  what  others  would 
not  voluntarily  yield.  Even  the  comparison  which  might 
be  made  between  them  and  the  British  statesmen,  is  true 
only  as  far  as  the  latter  also  stood  in  need  of  eloquence  to 
confirm  their  influence.  But  the  other  means  which  Pitt 
could  employ  to  form  a  party,  were  not  possessed  by  De- 
mosthenes. He  had  no  presents  to  offer,  no  places  to  give 
away,  no  ribbons  and  titles  to  promise.  On  the  contrary, 
he  was  opposed  by  men,  who  could  control  every  thing  by 
which  covetousness  or  ambition  can  be  tempted.  What 
could  he  oppose  to  them,  but  his  talents,  his  activity,  and 
his  courage  ?  Provided  with  no  other  arms,  he  supported 
the  contest  against  the  superiority  of  foreign  strength,  and 
the  still  more  dangerous  contest  with  the  corruptions  of  his 
own  nation.  It  was  his  high  calling,  to  be  the  pillar  of  a 
sinking  state.  Thirty  years  he  remained  true  to  it,  and  he 
did  not  yield  till  he  was  buried  beneath  its  ruins. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


The  relation  which  exists  between  science  and   political 
institutions,  is  of  a  twofold  nature.    It  may  be  asked,  What 

'If  the  voice  of  history  on  this  subject  were  not  loud  enough,  this  might 
be  inferred  from  the  calumnies  of  Dinarchus.  It  is  not  inconsistent  with  it, 
that  Demosthenes  may  sometimes,  in  his  negotiations,  have  been  too  much 
carried  away  by  the  liveliness  of  his  feelings. 


192 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XIV 


has  the  state  done  for  the  promotion  of  the  sciences  ?  And 
also,  What  influence  in  return  have  the  sciences,  or  any 
particular  branch  of  them,  exerted  on  the  state  ?  Both  ques- 
tions deserve  to  be  considered  in  the  case  of  the  Greeks. 

Where  the  government  is  actively  engaged  in  promoting 
the  sciences,  their  previous  existence  may  be  inferred.  To 
create  them  neither  is,  nor  can  be  a  concern  of  the  state. 
Even  where  they  are  beginning  to  flourish,  it  cannot  at  once 
be  expected,  that  they  should  receive  public  support ;  be- 
cause they  do  not  stand  in  immediate  relation  v^ith  the 
general  government.  They  are  the  fruit  of  the  investiga- 
tions of  individual  eminent  men ;  who  have  a  right  to  ex- 
pect nothing,  but  that  no  hinderances  should  be  laid  in  the 
way  of  their  inquiries  and  labours.  Such  was  the  situation 
of  things  in  the  Grecian  states,  at  the  time  when  scientific 
pursuits  began  to  gain  life.  What  inducement  could  the 
state  have  had  to  interfere  at  once  for  their  encouragement. 
In  Greece  the  motive  which  was  of  influence  in  the  East, 
did  not  exist.  Religion  had  no  secret  doctrines.  She  re- 
quired no  institutions  for  their  dissemination.  There  cer- 
tainly were  public  schools  for  instruction  in  reading,  writing, 
and  in  music  (poetry  and  song)  ;  over  which  teachers  were 
appointed  in  all  the  principal  cities ;  and  the  laws  provided 
that  no  abuses  dangerous  to  youth  should  find  entrance  to 
them.^  But  in  most  of  them  the  masters  were  probably  not 
paid  by  the  state  \^  they  received  a  compensation  from  their 
pupils.  The  same  is  true  of  the  more  advanced  instruction 
delivered  by  the  sophists ;  some  of  whom  amassed  wealth 
from  their  occupation ;  yet  not  at  the  expense  of  the  state, 
but  of  their  pupils. 

Thus  it  appears,  that  excepting  the  gymnasia,  which  were 
destined  for  bodily  exercises,  and  of  which  the  support  was 
one  of  the  duties  incumbent  on  citizens,^  no  higher  institu- 
tions for  instruction  existed  previous  to  the  Macedonian  age. 

\  ?^^  ^^®  u^^'^  °^  ^°^^"  ^"^  ^^^^  P^^"*-  ^^*^^-  ^^^-  A^t-  L.  ii.  Tit.  iv.  p.  239. 
I  limit  the  proposition  on  purpose,  for  it  would  be  altogether  false  to  as- 
sert generally,  that  this  never  took  place.  Charonidas,  in  his  laws  at  Catana, 
which  were  afterwards  adopted  in  Thurium,  had  expressly  enacted,  that  the 
school-masters  should  be  paid  by  the  state,  Diod.  xii.  p.  80,  as  an  affair  of  the 
utmost  importance.  Since  the  schools  were  so  carefully  watched  over,  may 
not  the  same  have  taken  place  in  many  other  cities  ?  This  however  is  true 
only  of  the  inferior  or  popular  schools. 

"  The  yv^vaatapxat ;  see  Petit,  iii.  Tit.  iv.  p.  355. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


193 


But  when  the  mass  of  scientific  knowledge  had  accumulat- 
ed ;  when  it  was  felt  how  valuable  that  knowledge  was  to 
the  state ;  when  the  monarchical  constitutions  were  intro- 
duced after  the  age  of  Alexander ;  provision  was  made  for 
such  institutions ;  the  museum  of  Alexandria  and  that  of 
Pergamus  were  established ;  and  it  still  remains  for  a  more 
thorough  investigation  to  decide,  whether  the  state  remained 
wholly  inactive,  while  the  schools  of  philosophy  and  of  rhe- 
toric were  forming.  Shall  the  Grecian  republics,  then,  still 
continue  to  be  cited,  as  has  been  done  by  the  celebrated 
founder  of  a  new  school  of  political  economy,  in  proof  that 
the  state  should  leave  the  sciences  to  provide  for  themselves  ? 
Should  it  not  rather  encourage  and  provide  for  them  in 
countries,  where  the  culture  of  most  of  them  is  in  several 
relations  necessary  for  its  welfare  ?  where  the  teacher  of 
religion  as  well  as  the  judge,  where  the  physician  as  well  as 
the  statesman,  stands  in  need  of  various  kinds  of  knowledge  ? 

But  when  that  assertion  is  understood  as  implying  that 
the  state  among  the  Greeks  was  wholly  unconcerned  about 
intellectual  culture  and  improvement,  but  left  these  subjects 
to  themselves,  a  monstrous  error  lies  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
No  states  in  the  whole  course  of  history  have  proportionally 
done  more  for  them  than  the  Grecian ;  but  they  did  it  in  a 
different  manner  from  the  moderns.  We  measure  intel- 
lectual culture  by  the  state  of  science ;  for  which  our  modern 
states,  as  is  well  known,  have  at  times  done  so  much  and  so 
little ;  the  Greeks,  on  the  contrary,  were  accustomed  to  find 
their  standard  in  the  arts.  The  state  among  the  Greeks  did 
little  for  the  sciences,  because  it  did  every  thing  for  the  arts. 
The  latter,  as  we  shall  more  fully  explain  hereafter,  were  of 
more  immediate  importance  to  it  than  the  former;  while 
the  reverse  is  true  among  the  moderns.  How  then  can  we 
be  astonished  that  the  arts  were  the  chief  object  of  interest 
to  the  Grecian  states  ? 

The  answer  to  the  other  question  embraces  a  wider  field  : 
Among  the  Greeks,  what  consequences  had  the  sciences  for 
the  state  ?  And  here  we  would  in  the  first  place  treat  of 
philosophy,  and  then  annex  to  the  inquiry  on  that  subject, 
some  remarks  respecting  history. 

After  so  many  acute  and  copious  explanations  of  the  Gre- 
cian philosophy,  no  one  will  here  expect  a  new  analysis  of 


194 


ANCIENT  GREECE, 


[chap.   XIV, 


their  systems.  It  is  our  object  to  show  how  the  connexion 
between  philosophy  and  politics  originated  among  the 
Greeks,  how  it  was  continued  and  increased,  and  what  was 

its  influence  ? 

The  philosophy  of  the  Greeks,  as  of  other  nations,  began 
with  inquiries  into  the  origin  of  things.  The  opinions  of 
the  Ionian  school  respecting  it  are  generally  known.  If,  as 
a  modern  historical  critic  has  made  to  appear  very  probable,^ 
they  were  at  first  connected  with  religious  representations, 
as  we  find  them  in  the  Orphic  precepts,  they  did  not  long 
remain  thus  united,  for  they  were  stript  of  their  mythological 
garb ;  and  in  this  manner  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks 
gained  its  independence,  while  in  the  East  it  always  re- 
mained connected  with  religion.  Still  it  is  no  where  men- 
tioned, that  the  philosophers  who  belonged^  to  this  school 
had  made  the  state  the  object  of  their  inquiries ;  yet  if  we 
consider  Anaxagoras  as  of  the  number,  his  connexion  with 
Pericles,  and  the  influence  which  by  means  of  his  instruc- 
tions he  exercised  over  that  statesman,  are  remarkable. 
But,  as  we  observed  in  a  former  chapter,  no  instruction  in 
a  philosophic  system  was  given ;  but  in  the  application  of 
some  propositions  in  natural  philosophy  to  practical  politics. 
Plutarch  has  preserved  for  us  the  true  object.  "  He  fi-eed 
Pericles,"  says  the  biographer,^  "  from  that  superstition, 
which  proceeds  from  false  judgments  respecting  auguries 
and  prodigies,  by  explaining  to  him  their  natural  causes." 
He  who  bears  in  mind  the  great  influence  exercised  by  this 
belief  or  superstition  on  the  undertakings  of  the  statesmen 
of  antiquity,  will  not  mistake  the  importance  of  such  instruc- 
tion ;  and  he  will  also  understand  the  consequences,  which 
could  follow  this  diminution  of  respect  for  the  popular  re- 
ligion in  the  eyes  of  the  multitude.  The  persecution  of 
Anaxagoras  for  denying  the  gods,  and  exercising  his  reason 
respecting  celestial  things,^  could  not  be  averted  by  Pericles 
himself;  who  was  obliged  to  consent  to  the  banishment  of 
the  philosopher.  And  this  was  the  commencement  of  the 
contest  between  philosophy  and  the  popular  religion ;  a  con- 
test, which  was  afterwards  repeatedly  renewed,  and  was  at- 

*  Bouterweck.   Commentatio  de  primis  philosophorum  Graecorum  decretis 
physicis.     See  Gott,  Gel.  Anzeig.  1812.  St.  11. 
'  Plut.  i.  p.  597.  '  Plut  i.  p.  654,  655. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


195 


tended  by  further  consequences,  that  we  must  not  omit  to 
observe. 

Pythagoras,  though  somewhat  younger  than  the  founder 
of  the  Ionian  school,  was  himself  an  Ionian  of  the  island  of 
Samos.  Nevertheless  he  found  his  sphere  of  action  not 
there,  but  in  Croton  in  Lower  Italy.  Of  no  one  of  the 
Grecian  sages  is  the  history  so  involved  in  the  obscurities  of 
tradition  and  the  marvellous ;  and  yet  no  other  became  of 
such  political  importance.^  If  we  desire  to  estimate  the  in- 
fluence of  his  philosophy  on  the  state,  we  must  by  all  means 
distinguish  the  influence  of  the  Pythagorean  league  on  the 
cities  of  Magna  Graecia,  from  the  influence  of  his  philosophy 
on  Greece  itself,  after  that  league  had  come  to  an  end. 

If  we  subject  to  a  critical  investigation,  that  which  anti- 
quity relates  in  a  credible  manner  of  his  society  and  their 
objects,  we  observe  a  phenomenon,  which  is  in  many  re- 
spects without  a  parallel.  And  yet  I  believe  this  is  most 
intimately  connected  with  the  aristocratic  and  democratic 
factions  which  may  be  remarked  so  frequently  in  the  Grecian 
states.  Pythagoras  had  deserted  Samos,  to  escape  from  the 
government  of  Polycrates ;  and  whatever  scruples  may  be 
raised  respecting  his  other  journeys,  no  one  has  denied  his 
residence  in  Egypt.  At  the  time  when  he  visited  this  coun- 
try, probably  under  Amasis,  who  made  it  accessible  to  the 
Greeks,  the  throne  of  the  Pharaohs  was  still  standing,  and 
the  influence  of  the  caste  of  priests  unimpaired.  From  them 
it  is  certain  that  he  adopted  much,  both  in  respect  to  dress 
and  manner  of  living ;  and  could  it  have  escaped  a  man  of 
his  penetration,  how  much  can  be  effected  in  a  state  by  the 
union  of  men  of  influence ;  although  he  must  have  seen,  that 
a  caste  of  priests  could  never  thrive  among  the  Greeks  ?  Ac- 
cording to  all  which  we  hear  respecting  him,  he  was  master 
of  the  art  of  exciting,  not  attention  only,  but  enthusiasm. 
His  dignity,  his  dress,  the  purity  of  his  morals,  his  elo- 
quence, were  of  such  a  kind,  that  men  were  inclined  to  ex- 

*  We  cannot  exactly  fix  the  year  of  the  birth  or  of  the  death  of  Pythagoras. 
It  is  most  probable  that  he  came  to  Croton  about  the  year  540 ;  he  was  cer- 
tainly there  at  the  period  of  the  destruction  of  Sybaris,  in  the  year  510  B.  C. 
His  league,  which  existed  at  that  time,  was  afterwards,  about  the  year  500 
B.  C,  dissolved  by  Cylon  and  his  faction.  Little  would  remain  to  be  added 
to  the  critical  inquiries  of  Meiners  respecting  the  Pythagorean  Philosophy,  if 
he  had  not  almost  wholly  neglected  to  treat  of  the  poHtical  doctrines  of 
Pythagoras. 

o  2 


196 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.   XIV, 


alt  him  above  the  class  of  common  mortals.*  A  comparison 
of  the  history  of  the  several  cities  in  Magna  Graecia,  at  the 
time  of  his  appearing  in  them,  distinctly  shows,  that  the  go- 
vernment, in  the  most  flourishing  of  them,  was  possessed  by 
the  higher  class.  Against  this  order  a  popular  party  began 
about  this  time  to  be  formed ;  and  the  controversies  of  the 
two  soon  occasioned  the  destruction  of  Sybaris.-  Pythago- 
ras, who  was  any  thing  rather  than  a  friend  to  the  mob,  join- 
ed the  party  of  the  higher  order ;  which  in  its  turn  found 
support  in  his  splendid  talents.  But  this  was  the  period  in 
which  luxury  had  risen  in  those  cities,  and  especially  in  the 
rich  families,  to  a  degree  never  before  known.  It  could  not 
escape  a  man  like  him,  that  this  corruption  of  manners  must 
be  followed  by  the  downfal  of  his  party ;  and  hence  it  was 
natural  for  him  to  resolve  to  found  his  political  reform  on  a 
moral  one.^  Being  intimately  connected  with  the  higher 
order,  he  united  them  in  a  narrower  circle ;  and  necessity 
soon  occasioned  a  distinction  to  be  made  between  the  class 
of  those  who  were  on  probation,  and  those  who  were  already 
admitted.*  Self-government  was  the  grand  object  of  his 
moral  reform.  For  this  end  he  found  it  necessary  to  pre- 
scribe a  certain  manner  of  life,  which  was  distinguished  by 
a  most  cleanly  but  not  luxurious  clothing,  a  regular  diet,  a 
methodical  division  of  time,  part  of  which  was  to  be  appro- 
priated to  the  individual  himself  and  part  to  the  state.  And 
this  may  have  contributed  not  a  little  to  form  those  firm 
friendships,  without  which  not  much  influence  on  public  af- 
fairs can  be  exercised  in  republics.  His  acquaintance  with 
speculative  and  mathematical  science  need  not  here  be  men- 
tioned, since  it  is  altogether  unknown  to  us,  how  far  he  ap- 
plied it  to  political  purposes. 

When  we  consider,  that  his  society,  of  which  he  himself 
formed  the  central  point,  but  which  had  its  branches  in  the 

*  See  the  passages  in  proof  of  this  in  Meiners,  B.  i.  s.  405,  etc.  They  are 
chiefly  taken  from  Aristoxenus,  one  of  the  most  credible  witnesses. 

'  The  party  of  the  nobles,  500  in  number,  fled  after  their  banishment  from 
thence  to  Croton,  and  prayed  for  protection ;  which  they  received  principally 
by  the  advice  of  Pythagoras.  Diod.  xii.  p.  'J'J.  Wechel.  The  passages  which 
prove  that  those  cities  had  aristocratical  constitutions,  may  be  found  in  Mei- 
ners, i.  396. 

*  See  the  passages  in  evidence  of  this,  and  the  incredible  sensation  pro- 
duced by  him,  in  Meiners,  i.  p.  396. 

*  Therefore  in  Herod,  ii.  81,  the  Pythagorean  sect  is  enumerated  among  the 
mysteries. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


197 


other  cities  of  Magna  Grsecia,  and  according  to  some  accounts 
even  in  Carthage  and  Cyrene,  continued  to  exist  for  at  least 
thirty  years,  we  can  realize  that  it  may  have  borne  not  only 
blossoms,  but  fruits.  His  disciples  came  by  degrees  to  fill 
the  most  important  posts,  not  only  in  Croton,  but  also  in  the 
other  Grecian  cities ;  and  yet  at  the  time  of  the  destruction 
of  Sybaris,  the  sect  must  have  existed  in  its  full  force  ;  since 
Pythagoras  advised  the  reception  of  the  banished ; '  and 
in  the  war  against  Sybaris,  one  of  his  most  distinguished 
scholars,  the  wrestler  Milo,^  held  the  supreme  command. 
But  when  a  secret  society  pursues  political  ends,  it  naturally 
follows,  that  an  opposing  party  increases  in  the  same  degree 
in  which  the  preponderating  influence  of  such  a  society  be- 
comes more  felt.^  But  in  this  case,  the  opposition  existed 
already  in  the  popular  party.*  It  therefore  only  needed  a 
daring  leader,  like  Cylon,  to  scatter  the  society  by  violence ; 
the  assembly  was  surprised,  and  most  of  them  cut  down, 
while  a  few  only,  and  with  them  their  master,  escaped. 
After  such  a  victory  of  the  adverse  faction,  the  expulsion  of 
the  rest  of  the  Pythagoreans  who  remained  alive,  from  their 
offices,  was  a  natural  consequence ;  and  the  political  import- 
ance of  the  society  was  at  an  end.  It  was  never  able  to 
raise  its  head  again. 

With  the  political  doctrines  of  the  Pythagoreans,  we  are 
acquainted  only  from  later  writers,  who  are  yet  worthy  of 
credit,  and  of  whom  accounts  and  fragments  have  been  pre- 
served, especially  in  the  collections  of  Stobaeus.  "  They 
regarded  anarchy,"  says  Aristoxenus,^  "as  the  greatest  evil; 
because  man  cannot  exist  without  social  order.  They  held 
that  every  thing  depended  on  the  relation  between  the  go- 
verning and  the  governed ;  that  the  former  should  be  not 
only  prudent,  but  mild  ;  and  that  the  latter  should  not  only 

*  Violent  bodily  exercises  formed  ajpart  of  the  discipline  of  Pythagoras. 
Six  times  in  one  Olympiad,  prizes  at  Olympia  were  gained  m  those  days  by 
inhabitants  of  Croton.  Must  not  this  too  have  contributed  to  increase  the 
fame  of  Pythagoras  ? 

»  Need  I  cite  the  example  of  the  Illuminati  ?  .      ,     .        r  ^i, 

*  Cylon,  the  author  of  that  commotion,  is  described  as  the  leader  of  the 
democratic  party ;  and  this  is  proved  by  the  anarchy  which  ensued  after  the 
catastrophe,  and  continued  till  order  was  restored  by  the  mother  cities  m 

Achaia.  ,         .  ,       .         ,   .  , 

*  Stob  Serm.  xli.  p.  243.  This  evidence  is  taken  either  from  Anstoxenus,  or 
from  Aristotle  himself,  and  therefore,  according  to  Meiners,  not  to  be  rejected. 


198 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XIV. 


obey,  but  love  their  magistrates ;  that  it  was  necessary  to 
grow  accustomed  even  in  boyhood  to  regard  order  and  har- 
mony as  beautiful  and  usefiil,  disorder  and  confusion  as 
hateful  and  injurious."  From  the  fragments  of  the  writings 
of  the  early  Pythagoreans,  as  of  Archytas,  Diotogenes,  and 
Hippodamus,^  we  perceive  that  they  were  not  bhndly  at- 
tached to  a  single  form  of  government ;  but  only  insisted 
that  there  should  be  no  unlawful  tyranny.  Where  a  royal 
government  existed,  kings  should  be  subject  to  the  laws, 
and  act  only  as  the  chief  magistrates.^  They  regarded  a 
mixed  constitution  as  the  best ;  and  although  they  were  far 
from  desiring  unlimited  democracies,  they  desired  quite  as 
little  unlimited  aristocracies ;  but  even  where  the  adminis- 
tration resided  principally  in  the  hands  of  the  upper  class, 
they  reserved  a  share  of  it  for  the  people.^ 

Though  the  political  agency  of  the  society  terminated  with 
its  dissolution,  the  Pythagorean  lessons  by  no  means  became 
extinct.  They  were  extended  through  Greece  with  the  writ- 
ings of  the  Pythagoreans,  who  were  paid  with  high  prices;  but 
in  that  country  they  gained  political  importance,  only  so  far 
as  they  contributed  to  the  education  of  individual  distinguish- 
ed men.     Of  these,  we  need  only  to  mention  Epaminondas. 

In  Greece,  the  sophists  are  generally  considered  to  have 
been  the  first,  who  applied  philosophy  to  political  science, 
which  then  became  a  subject  of  scientific  instruction.  Yet 
Plutarch,  in  a  remarkable  passage,*  speaks  of  a  political 
school  which  had  been  kept  up  in  Athens,  from  the  time  of 
Solon.  "  Themistocles,"  says  he,  "  could  not  have  been  a 
pupil  of  Anaxagoras,  as  some  contend.  He  was  a  disciple 
of  Mnesiphilus,  who  was  neither  an  orator,  nor  one  of  the 
physical  philosophers ;  ^  but  who  was  employed  on  that  kind 
of  wisdom,  which  consists  in  political  skill  and  practical 
sagacity,  and  which,  from  the  time  of  Solon,  had  been  pre- 
served as  in  a  school."  That  a  man  like  Solon  should  have 
gathered  around  himself  a  circle  which  he  made  acquainted 
with  his  thoughts  and  maxims,  was  not  only  natural,  but 

*  Meiners  considers  all  these  writings  as  not  genuine.  His  reasoning  how- 
ever does  not  apply  to  the  political  fragments,  which  are  to  be  found  m  cap. 
xli.  and  xliii. 

'  See  in  particular  the  fragments  of  Archytas.     Serm.  xUv.  p.  314. 
'  Compare  the  fragment  of  Diotogenes,  cap.  xlvi.  p.  329. 

*  In  Themistocles,  Op.  i.  p.  440.  *  The  Ionian  and  Eleatic  sages. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


199 


was  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  his  code  of  laws ;  and 
it  was  not  less  natural  that  his  younger  friends  should  in 
turn  deliver  to  theirs  the  principles  of  that  venerable  sage. 
But  the  words  of  the  biographer  himself  show  clearly  enough, 
that  no  methodical  instruction  was  given ;  but  principles  of 
practical  wisdom,  consisting  in  maxims  for  the  conducting 
of  public  affairs,  and  drawn  from  experience ;  maxims  of 
which  the  few  remaining  poetical  fragments  of  the  lawgiver 
contain  so  valuable  a  store. 

From  this  practical  direction,  the  Grecian  philosophers 
afler  the  times  of  Pythagoras  entirely  withdrew ;  and  de- 
voted themselves  altogether  to  metaphysical  speculations. 
They  were  employed  in  inquiries  respecting  the  elements, 
and  the  nature  of  things ;  and  came  necessarily  upon  the 
question,  which  has  so  often  been  repeated,  and  which  never 
can  be  answered,  respecting  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the 
perceptions  of  our  senses.     We  know  with  what  zeal  these 
inquiries  were  made  in  the  Eleatic  school.    They  employed 
in  a  great  measure  Xenophanes,  Parmenides,  Heraclitus, 
Empedocles,  and  others.  If  therefore  we  read  of  individuals 
among  these  men,  that  they  attained  to  political  eminence,^ 
their  philosophy  was  connected  with  their  political  station 
only  so  far  as  they  thus  became  conspicuous ;  and  because 
wise  men  were  selected  for  counsellors.     In  one  point  a 
nearer  relation  existed  between  their  philosophy  and  the 
state;  we  mean  in  their  diminishing  or  attempting  to  di- 
minish the  respect  for  the  popular  religion.     In  a  country 
where  the  religion  was  a  poetical  one,  and  where  philoso- 
phy had  become  entirely  distinct  from  religion,  the  spirit  of 
free,  unlimited  speculation,  on  its  awakening,  could  not  but 
scrutinize  the  popular  faith,  and  soon  detect  its  weaknesses. 
This  we  hear  was  done  by  Xenophanes,  who  with  equal 
boldness  used  bitter  expressions  respecting  the  gods,  and  the 
epic  poets  who  have  invented  about  the  gods  such  indecent 
fables.^     This  contradiction  between  philosophy  and  the 
popular  religion,  is  on  the  one  side  the  most  certain  proof  of 
the  independence  of  the  former ;  but  it  was  also  the  point,  in 
which  the  state  and  philosophy  came  in  contact,  not  without 

'  As  Empedocles  in  Agrigentum ;  who  is  said  to  have  refused  the  diadem, 
and  confirmed  the  liberties  of  the  people.  Diog.  Laert.  viii.  ii.  9. 
'  Diog.  Laert.  ix.  ii.  3. 


200 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap. 


XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


201 


danger  to  the  state,  and  if  not  to  philosophy  itself,  yet  to  the 
philosophers. 

Yet  however  far  the  speculations  of  those  reasoners  were 
removed  from  the  state  and  from  politics,  the  spirit  of  the 
times  and  necessity  created  many  points  of  contact ;  which 
serve  to  explain  the  appearance  of  the  sophists,  and  the 
part  which  they  acted.  Without  regarding  their  doctrines, 
we  may  find  their  external  character  designated  by  the  cir- 
cumstance, that  they  were  the  first  who  gave  instruction  for 
pay.  This  presupposes 'that  the  want  of  scientific  instruc- 
tion began  to  be  felt ;  and  this  again  implies,  that  independ- 
ent of  such  instruction,  the  nation  had  made  progress  in 
intellectual  culture.  In  other  words;  he  who  desired  to 
become  distinguished  in  the  state,  felt  the  necessity  of  im- 
proving his  mind  by  instruction.  He  was  obliged  to  learn 
to  speak,  and  therefore  to  think ;  and  exercises  in  these  two 
things  constituted  the  whole  instruction  of  the  sophists. 
But  It  was  of  great  importance,  that  the  minds  of  men  had 
been  employed  and  continued  to  be  employed  so  much 
with  those  metaphysical  questions,  which,  as  they  from  their 
very  nature  can  never  be  answered  with  certainty,  are  well 
suited  for  disputation,  and  admit  so  various  answers. 

From  the  copious  inquiries  which  have  been  made  re- 
specting the  sophists  by  modern  writers  of  the  history  of 
philosophy, »  and  from  the  preceding  remarks,  it  is  suffi- 
ciently evident  that  they  were  a  fruit  of  the  age.    It  is 

•  Yet  even  after  all  that  has  here  been  done  by  Meiners,  Tenneman,  and 
others  many  things  remain  obscure;  for  the  explanation  of  which  the 
toundation  must  be  laid  in  a  more  accurate  chronology  of  the  sophists     The 

^^J^Jl^  J^rmrurd  m  Nova  Acta  literaria  Societatis  Rheno  TrajectiruB  1823, 
Sricr..^«fni  '  F.°^  ^o^r^t^^l  yet  it  explains  the  difference  between 
fhp  c^.v  .  t  f  '""Pt^'lV  ^^^  ^^^  causes  of  the  origin  of  the  sophists.  Even 
ment^ott  n^^^^^  the  Macedonian  times  (of  a  later  period  we  here  make  no 
?nrf«  ™f.  •  •     ,?°"^«"^  ^be  same ;  and  we  should  do  Gorgias  and  Prota- 

Sst^whom  ihf ''  IT  ^'/^  -P^'^  'l'"^  ^^  ^^^  ^^"^^  '^^^  with  those, 
against  whom  the  aged  Isocrates  m  his  Panathenaicus,  Op.  p.  236,  and  De 

Sophistis,  p.  293,  makes  such  bitter  complaints.    Gorg^as,^P?otaSr^   and 

t^CiomTtoTr"^^-  '"/^^  '^'  'ife^  '''^^'''  '  ^^  ^hom  GorTas^s  sa"d 
to  have  come  to  Athens  m  the  year  427  as  ambassador,  although  this  is  not 
mentioned  by  Thucydides.  But  it  is  evident  from  Aristophanes?who  brouZ 
his  Clouds  upon  the  stage,  for  the  first  time,  424  years  B  C  that  It  tf  at 
&e':rrafcltl'f  ^V'^  ^^1'^^  establifhen^fhens.  ''if  app  a^^^ 
of  Gor^£  .nft W^  "^"H^^  ^^  ^^^f,  '°Ph^^^«  commenced  in  the  times 
™e?t^d  .n  fi^f  ^^"r^^^-   }l  the  Clouds,  Socrates  and  his  pupils  are 

tney  are  to  subsist  from  one  day  to  another. 


worthy  of  remark,  that  the  most  celebrated  of  them  came 
from  the  most  various  parts  of  the  Grecian  world  ;  Gorgias, 
who  begins  the  series,  from  Leontium  in  Sicily  ;  Protagoras 
from  Abdera  on  the  coast  of  Thrace ;  Hippias  from  Colo- 
phon in  Asia  Minor ;  not  to  mention  a  multitude  of  those 
who  were  less  famous.  This  is  a  remarkable  proof,  how 
generally,  since  the  Persian  wars,  a  literary  spirit  had  begun 
to  animate  the  nation.  Most  of  those  men,  it  is  true,  re- 
moved to  Athens;  to  which  place  Gorgias  was  sent  as 
ambassador  during  the  Peloponnesian  war;  because  this 
city,  so  long  as  it  held  the  first  rank,  opened  the  widest 
and  most  profitable  theatre  for  their  exertions ;  but  they 
also  often  travelled  through  the  cities  of  Greece  in  the 
train  of  their  pupils  ;  met  with  the  kindest  reception  ;  and 
were  employed  as  counsellors  in  public  affairs,  and  not  un- 
frequently  as  ambassadors.  They  gave  instruction  at  a  high 
price  to  all  young  men  who  joined  them,  in  every  branch 
of  knowledge  deemed  essential  to  their  education.  This 
undoubtedly  occasioned  that  boasting  of  universal  know- 
ledge, which  has  been  laid  to  their  charge  ;  but  it  must  also 
be  remembered,  that  in  those  days  the  extent  of  the  sciences 
was  still  very  limited. 

The  sophists  at  first  embraced  in  their  course  of  instruc- 
tion, philosophy  as  well  as  rhetoric.  But  that  which  they 
called  philosophy  was,  as  with  the  scholastic  philosophers, 
the  art  of  confounding  an  opponent  by  syllogisms  and 
sophisms;  and  the  subjects  about  which  they  were  most 
fond  of  speculating,  were  some  of  those  metaphysical  ques- 
tions, respecting  which  we  ought  finally  to  learn,  that  we 
never  can  know  any  thing.  This  kind  of  reasoning,  since 
disputation  and  speaking  were  taught,  was  very  closely  con- 
nected with  rhetoric.  Subsequently  the  sophists  and  rhe- 
toricians formed  distinct  classes ;  but  the  different  classes 
which  Isocrates  distinguished  in  his  old  age,^  could  hardly 
have  been  so  decidedly  marked  in  his  youth. 

The  precepts  and  the  very  name  of  the  sophists  became 
odious  among  the  ancients;  and  it  would  be  in  vain  to 
attempt  to  free  them  entirely  from  the  reproaches,  which 
were  cast  on  them  by  sages  and  by  the  comic  writers.  But 
yet  they  cannot  be  deprived  of  the  glory  of  having  made 

'  Isocrates,  Op.  p.  293,  etc. 


^\ 


202 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


203 


the  higher  class  of  their  nation  sensible  of  the  necessity  of 
a  liberal  education.  They  rose  rapidly  and  extraordinarily, 
because  they  were  deeply  connected  with  the  wants  of  the 
times.  Tn  states,  where  every  thing  was  discussed  orally, 
and  where  every  thing  was  just  beginning  to  bloom,  the  in- 
structers  in  logic  and  rhetoric  could  not  but  be  acceptable. 
But  in  two  respects,  they  soon  became  injurious  and  even 
dangerous  to  the  state  ;  by  reducing  eloquence  to  the  mere 
art  of  disputing,  and  by  degrading  or  ridiculing  the  popular 
religion. 

The  first  seems  to  have  been  a  very  natural  consequence 
of  the  condition  of  the  sciences  at  that  time.  The  more 
limited  is  the  knowledge  of  men,  the  more  bold  are  they  in 
their  assertions ;  the  less  they  know,  the  more  they  beheve 
they  do  and  can  know.  Man  persuades  himself  of  nothing 
more  readily,  than  that  he  has  arrived  at  the  bounds  of  hu- 
man knowledge.  This  belief  creates  in  him  a  dogmatical 
spirit ;  because  he  believes  he  can  prove  every  thing.  But 
where  it  is  believed  that  every  thing  can  be  proved,  there 
naturally  arises  the  art  of  proving  the  contrary  proposition ; 
and  the  art  of  disputing  among  the  sophists  degenerated  to 
this.  The  art  of  confounding  right  and  wrong,  objected  to 
them  by  the  comic  poets,  may  have  had  a  very  injurious 
influence  on  social  life ;  but  a  greater  evil  resulting  from  it 
was  the  destroying  of  a  nice  sense  of  truth ;  for  even  truth 
itself  becomes  contemptible,  when  it  is  believed,  that  it  can 
as  well  be  refuted,  as  established,  by  an  argument. 

That  the  popular  religion  was  held  in  less  esteem,  was 
probably  a  consequence  of  the  more  intimate  connexion, 
which  existed  between  the  elder  sophists  and  their  prede- 
cessors and  contemporaries  of  the  Eleatic  school.  In  these 
accusations  injustice  has  perhaps  been  done  to  some  of 
them  ;  for  it  may  be  doubted  whether  Protagoras  deserved 
the  name  of  atheist ;  ^  yet  no  circumstance  probably  contri- 
buted so  much  to  make  them  odious  in  the  eyes  of  the 
people. 

If  to  these  things  we  add  their  lax  moral  principles, 
which  consisted  in  lessons  of  prudence,  how  life  could  be 

'  He  had  only  said  he  knew  not  whether  the  gods  existed  or  not ;  yet  for 
this  he  was  banished  from  Athens,  and  his  writings  were  burnt.  Sext,  Emp. 
ix.  57.  That  the  atheism  of  Prodicus  is  uncertain,  has  been  already  observed 
by  Tenneman.    Gesch.  d.  Phil.  i.  S.  377. 


t 


made  easy  and  be  enjoyed,  but  which  doubtless  assisted  in 
procuring  for  them  pupils  and  followers,  we  can  survey  all 
the  evil  influence  which  they  exercised.  And  yet  these 
very  aberrations  of  the  human  understanding  may  have 
been  necessary,  to  awaken  the  minds  which  were  to  point 
out  better  paths. 

The  son  of  Sophroniscus  is  the  first  among  these.  He 
began  the  opposition  to  the  sophists.  Just  as  PhiHp  called 
forth  a  Demosthenes,  the  sophists  produced  a  Socrates. 
After  all  that  antiquity  has  left  us  concerning  him,  and  all 
the  observations  of  modern  historians,  he  is  one  of  the  cha- 
racters most  diflScult  to  be  understood,  and  stands  by  him- 
self, not  only  in  his  own  nation,  but  in  the  whole  history  of 
the  culture  of  our  race.  For  what  sage,  who  was  neither  a 
pubhc  teacher,  nor  a  writer,  nor  a  religious  reformer,  has 
had  such  an  influence  on  his  own  age  and  on  posterity,  as 
he  ?  We  willingly  concede,  that  his  sphere  of  action  has  far 
exceeded  his  own  expectations  and  designs.  These  hardly 
had  reference  to  posterity.  Every  thing  seems  to  indicate, 
that  they  were  calculated  for  his  contemporaries  alone.  But 
it  may  "with  justice  be  remarked,  that  this  only  increases  the 
difficulty  of  an  explanation.  For  who  will  not  ask  ;  How 
could  this  man,  without  intending  it,  have  had  an  influence 
on  all  centuries  after  his  time  ?  The  chief  reason  is  to  be 
found  in  the  nature  of  his  philosophy ;  yet  external  causes 
came  to  his  assistance. 

After  so  many  have  written  upon  his  philosophy,  it  would 
be  superfluous  to  delineate  it  anew.  It  made  its  way,  be- 
cause it  immediately  related  to  the  higher  matters  of  interest 
to  man.  While  the  sophists  were  brooding  over  mere 
speculations,  and  their  contests  were  but  contests  of  words, 
Socrates  taught  those  who  came  near  him,  to  look  into 
themselves ;  man  and  his  relations  with  the  world  were  the 
objects  of  his  investigations.  That  we  may  not  repeat  what 
has  already  been  so  well  remarked  by  others,  we  will  here 
allow  ourselves  only  some  general  observations  respecting 
the  philosopher  himself  and  his  career. 

His  influence  was  most  closely  connected  with  the  forms 
of  social  life  in  Athens ;  in  a  country  where  these  are  not  the 
same,  a  second  Socrates  could  never  exercise  the  influence 
of  the  first.     He  gave  instruction  neither  in  his  house,  nor 


I 


•| 


m 


HHH 


^04 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


205 


in  any  fixed  place  ;  the  public  squares  and  halls  were  the 
favourite  scenes  of  his  conversations.  For  such  instruction 
a  proper  audience  can  be  found  only  in  a  nation,  in  which 
private  life  is  in  a  very  high  degree  public  in  its  nature. 
This  was  the  case  with  the  Athenians.  Such  a  method  of 
teaching  could  be  effectual  among  them,  because  they  were 
not  only  accustomed  to  pass  a  large  portion  of  the  day  in 
places  of  public  resort,  but  also  to  speak  of  almost  every 
subject  which  could  occur.  It  was  here  that  the  sophists 
passed  much  of  their  time,  not  to  give  formal  instruction, 
which,  as  it  was  paid  for,  was  given  in  a  definite  place,  but, 
as  Plato  reproaches  them,  in  order  to  gain  rich  young  men 
as  pupils.  The  war  which  Socrates  had  once  for  all  declared 
against  them,  made  him  from  choice,  and  most  frequently, 
pass  his  time  where  he  could  expect  to  find  his  adversaries, 
as  well  as  his  friends  and  followers.^ 

The  manner  in  which  he  taught,  was  not  less  important. 
It  was  by  conversation,  not  by  continued  discourse.  He 
had  therefore  adopted  the  very  manner  which  is  most 
suitable  to  public  places.  But  in  two  respects,  his  convers- 
ation, apart  from  the  matter  it  contained,  was  distinguished 
from  the  common  intercourse  of  life.  The  one  was  the 
irony  which  he  knew  how  to  introduce,  especially  in  his 
attacks  on  the  sophists  ;  the  other  and  more  important,  was 
the  conviction  which  he  often  expressed,  that  he  spoke  from 
the  impulse  of  divine  power.  Socrates  differs  from  the 
whole  class  of  men,  whom  we  embrace  under  the  name  of 
prophets ;  for,  while  these  appear  as  the  immediate  envoys 
and  messengers  of  the  divinity,  he  did  but  occasionally  in- 
sinuate his  claim  to  this  character,  although  he  never 
denied  it.  He  neither  desired  to  found  a  new  religion,  nor 
to  improve  the  existing  one ;  which  was  necessarily  the 
object  of  the  prophets.  The  appearance  of  a  Socrates  was 
therefore  the  noblest  result  of  the  separation  of  philosophy 
from  religion,  a  merit  belonging  solely  to  the  Greeks ;  in 

^  From  this  point  of  resemblance,  I  think  we  may  explain  how  Aristo- 
phanes could  confound  Socrates  with  the  sophists.  He  represents  him  as 
giving  instruction  for  money,  and  in  a  house  of  his  own,  appropriated  to 
study  {(ppovTKjTTjpiov) ;  and  these  two  circumstances  are  true  of  the  sophists, 
but  not  of  Socrates.  I  can  therefore  discover  in  his  Socrates  nothing  but  the 
representative  of  the  sophists.  To  be  sure  the  comic  poet  would  have  better 
provided  for  his  reputation  with  posterity,  if  he  had  brought  a  Prodicus  or 
Gorgias  upon  the  stage  instead  of  Socrates. 


no  Eastern  nation  could  a  Socrates  have  found  his  sphere. 
But  he  became  a  martyr  to  his  doctrines.  It  would  be 
superfluous  to  prove  anew,  the  groundlessness  of  the 
charges,  that  he  denied  the  popular  religion,  and  was  a 
corrupter  of  the  youth.'  But  we  will  not  neglect  to  ob- 
serve, that  by  his  death  he  produced  even  more  important 
consequences  than  by  his  life.  If  he  had  been  snatched 
away  by  sickness,  who  knows  whether  he  would  have  been 
remembered  more  than  other  meritorious  instructers  ?  His 
friends  and  pupils  would  have  spoken  of  him  with  respect, 
but  hardly  with  enthusiasm.  But  the  poisoned  cup  insured 
him  immortality.  By  his  death,  in  connexion  with  his  doc- 
trines, he  exhibited  in  reality  one  of  those  sublime  ideal 
conceptions,  of  which  the  Grecian  nation  alone  is  so  fertile ; 
he  presented  what  till  then  had  been  wanting,  the  image  of 
a  sage  who  dies  for  his  convictions. 

The  philosophy  of  Socrates  had  no  immediate  relations 
with  politics.  Its  object  was  man,  considered  as  a  moral 
being,  not  as  a  citizen.  Hence  it  was  indirectly  of  the  more, 
importance  to  the  state ;  since  it  was  nothing  less  than  an 
attempt  to  meet  the  ruin,  with  which  the  state  was  threat- 
ened by  a  false  kind  of  philosophy.  This  object  was  not 
fully  attained ;  but  must  the  blame  of  the  failure  be  attri- 
buted to  Socrates  ? 

From  his  school,  or  rather,  from  his  circle,  a  number  of 
distinguished  minds  were  produced,  who  in  part  differed 
from  each  other  in  their  opinions  and  systems,  as  opposite 
poles.  This  could  not  have  happened,  but  because  Socrates 
had  no  system,  and  hence  laid  no  chains  on  the  spirit  of 
inquiry.  He  would  but  excite  the  minds  of  others ;  and 
hence  we  perceive  how  there  could  have  been  among  his 
associates,  an  Antisthenes,  who  made  self-denial,  and  an 
Aristippus,  who  made  enjoyment,  the  basis  of  ethics ;  a 
Pyrrho,  whose  object  it  was  to  doubt,  and  a  Euclid,  who 
was  eager  to  demonstrate.  As  the  philosophy  of  these  men 
was  in  no  manner  connected  with  politics,  we  pass  over 
them,  that  we  may  not  leave  unmentioned  the  greatest  of 
all  the  pupils  of  Socrates. 

To  comprehend  the  character  of  Plato,  a  genius  would  be 

*  See,  beside  the  works  on  the  history  of  philosophy,  the  Essay  of  Tychsen, 
IJeber  den  Process  des  Socrates,  in  Bibl.  d.  alten  Litt.  u.  Kunst.  St  1.  2. 


206 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[CIIAP.  XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


g07 


required,  hardly  inferior  to  his.  Common  or  even  uncom- 
mon philosophic  acumen,  industry,  and  learning  in  this  case 
are  not  sufficient.  The  mind  of  Plato  rose  above  visible 
ubjects,  and  entered  on  the  higher  regions,  where  exist  the 
eternal  first  forms  of  things.  To  these  his  eye  was  undevi- 
atingly  directed,  as  the  only  regions  where  knowledge  can 
be  found, — since  there  is  nothing  beyond  opinion  in  the 
world  of  the  senses, — and  where  real  beauty,  goodness,  and 
justice  dwell  eternal  and  unchangeable  as  the  Divinity,  and 
yet  distinct  from  the  Divinity.  He  who  cannot  follow  Plato 
to  those  regions,  and  feel  with  him,  in  the  veil  of  mytholo- 
gical fables,  what  he  himself  felt  rather  than  knew,  may 
make  many  valuable  and  correct  remarks  respecting  that 
philosopher,  but  is  not  capable  of  presenting  a  perfect  and 
adequate  image  of  him.  The  attempt  to  give  a  body  to 
that  which  is  ethereal,  is  vain;  for  it  then  ceases  to  be 
ethereal.  But  the  relation  in  which  he  stood  to  his  nation 
can  be  very  distinctly  delineated.  In  him  the  poetic  charac- 
ter of  the  Greeks  expressed  itself  philosophically.  It  was 
only  in  a  nation  so  thoroughly  poetical,  that  a  Plato  could 
be  produced. 

Socrates  had  contemplated  man  as  a  moral  being ;  Pla- 
to's philosophy  embraced  the  social  union.  Long  before 
him,  the  state  had  so  far  become  an  object  of  speculation, 
that  writers  had  endeavoured  to  sketch  the  model  of  a  per- 
fect constitution.  No  more  immediate  occasion  for  such 
exercise  could  be  found  than  in  the  Grecian  cities,  which 
formed  as  it  were  the  model  of  a  chart  of  free  states ;  which, 
1}  means  of  their  wants  and  changes,  almost  necessarily  con- 
ducted the  reflecting  mind  to  such  objects  of  thought.  The 
first  distinct  attempt  of  this  kind,  as  we  expressly  learn  from 
Aristotle,'  was  made  by  Hippodamus  of  Miletus,  who  must 
have  been  a  contemporary  of  Themistocles.^  The  marked 
separation  of  the  three  classes  of  artists,  agriculturists,  and 
soldiers,  and  the  division  which  he  makes  of  land  into  sa- 
cred, public,  and  private  land,  remind  us  of  the  Egyptian 
institutions.  Not  only  his  plan,  but  that  of  Phaneas  of  Chal- 
cedon,  is  discussed  at  large  by  Aristotle.    Investigations  of 

'  Aristot.  Polit.  ii.  cap.  8. 

*  According  to  Aristotle,  he  was  employed  in  the   construction  of  the 
Pirseeus,  which  was  the  work  of  Themistocles. 


constitutions  and  codes  of  laws  now  became  subjects  fre- 
quently treated  of;  they  could  hardly  have  much  practical 
influence,  since  the  days  were  past  in  which  new  lawgivers 
could  have  appeared  in  Greece.  Of  many  works  composed 
in  those  times,  none  have  come  down  to  us  but  the  two 
treatises  of  Plato.  These,  especially  that  of  the  republic,  are 
intelligible  only  to  those  who  comprehend  and  bear  always 
in  mind,  that  the  Greeks  regarded  a  state  as  a  moral  person, 
which  governs  itself,  and  cannot  be  swayed  by  any  impulse 
from  a  higher  power,  ^  nor  be  governed  by  another.  Then 
it  is  no  longer  difficult  to  explain  the  close  and  indissoluble 
union  between  morals  and  politics,  a  union  which  modern 
writers  have  so  frequently  called  in  question. 

During  the  days  of  the  fi'eedom  of  Greece,  almost  every 
grand  question  connected  with  theoretical  or  practical  phi- 
losophy, was  made  the  object  of  inquiry  and  discussion. 
The  later  writers  may  perhaps  have  answered  them  differ- 
ently and  with  greater  acuteness  ;  but  to  the  earliest  belongs 
the  great  merit  of  having  presented  to  the  reflecting  mind, 
the  objects  after  which  they  should  strive.  The  relations  of 
the  later  systems  of  Grecian  philosophy  to  the  earlier  ones, 
show  how  far  the  Stoic  system  was  allied  to  the  Cynic,  the 
Epicurean  to  the  Cyrenaic,  that  of  the  later  sceptics  to  that 
of  Pyrrho  and  the  Eleatic  school, — these  subjects  we  leave 
to  be  explained  by  some  writer,  who  is  capable  of  giving,  not 
a  voluminous,  but  succinct  and  spirited  account  of  the  ef- 
forts made  among  the  Greeks  by  the  understanding,  as  em- 
ployed on  subjects  of  philosophy. 

If  the  relations  of  philosophy  to  the  political  institutions 
must  be  estimated  by  its  reaction  on  them,  the  reverse  is  in 
some  measure  true  of  the  science  of  history.  This  stands  in 
connexion  with  the  state,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  result  of  the 
changes  and  destinies  of  the  state  It  is  true,  that  history 
was  not  long  limited  among  the  Greeks  to  their  own  nation. 
As  there  was  free  intercourse  with  foreigners,  accounts  and 
traditions  respecting  their  origin,  manners,  and  revolutions 
became  common.  But  every  thing  proceeded  from  the 
history  of  their  native  country ;  this  always  remained  the 

*  We  would  here  especially  refer  to  the  following  excellent  treatise.  J.  L. 
G.  de  Geer,  Diatribe  in  PoUtices  Platonicse  Principia.  Trajecti  ad  Rhenum, 
1810. 


I 


208 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XIV. 


central  point.  And  here  again  we  perceive  the  just  views 
of  the  Greeks.  Is  not  each  nation  the  nearest  object  to 
Itself?  And  next  to  the  present  moment,  what  can  interest 
it  more  than  its  own  previous  condition  ? 

This  was  early  and  very  generally  felt ;  and  if  historical 
accounts  have  been  preserved  but  scantily  or  not  at  all,  the 
fault  is  to  be  attributed,  not  to  the  want  of  exertions  to  in- 
sure that  end,  but  to  the  imperfection  of  the  means  which 
the  nations  could  control ;  that  is,  not  merely  to  the  want 
of  an  alphabet,  but  of  the  materials  which  are  used  in  writ- 
ing. Persepolis,  Thebes,  Mexico, —do  not  all  these  furnish 
distinct  proofs  of  the  truth  of  our  remark  ? 

But  not  less  depended  on  the  circumstance,  whether  any 
persons,  a  peculiar  class  or  caste  in  the  nation,  were  com- 
missioned to  record  the  events  as  they  passed.  Where  a 
priesthood  existed,  the  preparing  of  the  calendar,  however 
imperfect  or  perfect  it  might  be,  was  their  business ;  and  to 
this  It  was  easy  to  add  the  writing  of  annals. 

The  Greeks  had  no  such  separate  order  of  priests* 
and  hence  we  hear  nothing  of  any  annals  which  they  pos- 
sessed.^ Yet  religion  still  did  something  for  history.  A 
multitude  of  relations,  preserving  the  memory  of  early  events 
were  associated  with  the  consecrated  offerings  in  the  tem- 
ples. How  often  are  these  referred  to  by  Herodotus  !  and 
the  historical  remarks  of  Pausanias  are  almost  always  made 
m  connexion  with  them.  But  they  could  neither  fix  a  suc- 
cession of  time,  nor  do  more  than  confirm  single  facts. 

The  history,  therefore,  of  the  Greeks  emanated  from  an 
entirely  different  source,  from  tradition  ;  and  since  this  sup- 
plied poetry  with  Its  subjects,  the  poets  remained  for  centu- 
ries the  sole  preservers  of  traditional  accounts.  But  it  does 
not  follow,  that  Grecian  history  was  an  invention,  because 
It  was  originally  poetical.  Indeed,  it  never  entirely  lost  that 
character.  The  subjects  of  history,  as  presented  by  tradition, 
were  only  interwoven  with  fictions.  But  it  is  obvious  of  it- 
self, that  the  character  of  the  Grecian  traditions  must  have 
had  a  great  or  even  a  decisive  influence  on  the  character  of 
their  history. 

eJlS^time^s  ^.^rfn?^'^^'^'^  priesthood  existed,  as  in  Sicyon,  from  the 
earliest  times,  a  sort  of  annals  was  connected  with  it.     They  seem   however 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


209 


By  means  of  the  original  and  continued  division  of  the 
nation  into  many  tribes,  the  traditions  were  very  much  en- 
riched. Each  tribe  had  its  heroes  and  its  deeds  of  valour 
to  employ  the  bard.  To  convince  ourselves  of  this,  we  need 
but  cast  a  glance  on  the  tales  of  the  Grecian  heroes.  Indi- 
viduals among  them,  who  were  more  distinguished  than  the 
rest,  as  Hercules  and  Jason,  became  the  heroes  of  the  nation, 
and  therefore  the  favourites  of  the  poets.  And  after  the 
first  great  national  enterprise,  after  Troy  had  fallen,  need 
we  be  astonished  that  the  historic  muse  preferred  this  to  all 
other  subjects? 

All  this  is  too  well  known  to  need  any  more  copious  ex- 
position. ^  But  much  as  Homer  and  the  cyclic  poets  eclipsed 
the  succeeding  ones,  historic  poetry  kept  pace  with  the  po- 
litical culture  of  the  nation.  This  union  we  must  not  leave 
unobserved. 

That  advancement  in  political  culture  was,  as  we  observed 
above,  connected  with  the  rising  prosperity  of  the  cities  in 
Greece  and  of  the  colonies.  The  founding  of  cities  (ict«V6«) 
therefore  formed  an  essential  part  of  the  earlier  history.  But 
cities  were  founded  by  heroes ;  and  the  traditions  respecting 
these  things  were  therefore  intimately  connected  with  the 
rest.  Who  does  not  see,  how  wide  a  field  was  her^  opened 
for  historic  poetry  ?  Such  narrations  had  always  a  lasting 
interest  for  the  inhabitants ;  they  were,  by  their  very  nature, 
of  a  kind  to  be  exaggerated  till  they  became  marvellous ; 
and  were  connected  with  accounts  of  the  most  ancient  voy- 
ages ;  stories  of  the  wonders  of  foreign  and  distant  countries; 
the  island  of  the  Cyclops,  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides,  the 
rich  Iberia,  and  others.  What  could  afford  more  agreeable 
nourishment  to  the  imagination  of  a  youthful  people  ?  What 
could  be  more  attractive  to  the  poets  ? 

Hence  there  arose  among  the  Greeks  a  particular  class  of 
historic  poems,  which,  though  in  subject  and  form  most  in- 
timately connected  with  other  poems,  were  yet  specially 
commemorative  of  the  founding  of  the  several  cities.  The 
class  embraced,  it  is  true,  cities  of  the  mother  country;* 

*  See  Heyne,  Historiae  scribendae  inter  Graecos  primordia.  Comment.  Soc. 
Sc.  Getting,  voi.  xiv. 

'  Especially  Athens.  Here  is  the  source  of  the  lake  Atthides.  So  too  Eii- 
melus  has  celebrated  in  song  the  oldest  history  of  Corinth.  Bibliothek  d. 
alten  Litt.  und  Kunst.  ii.  94.    Of  narratives  respecting  colonies,  we  would 


210 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.    XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


211 


IE 


but  chiefly  related  to  the  colonies ;  for  their  establishment, 
intimately  interwoven  with  the  history  of  heroes,  offered  the 

nciicst  materials. 

History  continued  to  be  treated  in  a  poetical  manner,  till 
near  the  time  of  the  Persian  wars.  How  deeply,  therefore, 
must  the  poetic  character  have  been  imprinted  upon  Grecian 
history?  Experience  has  taught  that  it  was  indelibly  so. 
When  the  first  writers  appeared  who  made  use  of  prose,  this 
character  was  changed  only  with  respect  to  the  form,  but  by 
no  means  to  the  matter.  They  related  in  prose  what  the 
poets  had  told  in  verse.  This  is  expressly  stated  by  Strabo.' 
"  The  earliest  writers,"  says  he,  "  Cadmus  of  Miletus,  Phe- 
recydes,  Hecatseus,  preserved  the  poetic  character,  though 
not  the  measure  of  verse.  Those  who  came  after  them, 
were  the  first  to  descend  from  that  height  to  the  present 
style  of  writing."  The  opinion  of  Cicero  seems  therefore  to 
have  been  ill  founded,  when  he  compares  the  oldest  histori- 
ans, and  particularly  Pherecydes,  with  the  earliest  annalists 
of  the  Romans,  Fabius  Pictor  and  Cato,'  whose  style  was 
certainly  not  poetical. 

The  larger  number  and  the  earliest  of  the  narrators  of 
traditions,'  as  Herodotus  styles  them  in  distinction  from  the 
epic  poets,  were  lonians.  Epic  poetry  was  followed  by 
narrations  in  prose,  in  the  very  countries  where  it  had  been 
cultivated  most  successfully.  History  has  left  us  in  uncer- 
tainty respecting  the  more  immediate  causes  of  this  change ; 
but  has  not  the  East  always  been  the  land  of  fables  ?  Here, 
where  the  crowd  of  colonial  cities  was  springing  up,  which 
were  founded  toward  the  end  of  the  heroic  age,  that  cjass  of 
narrations  which  relate  to  these  subjects  found  the  most  ap- 
propriate themes.  In  explaining  therefore  the  origin  of  his- 
toric science  among  the  Greeks,  it  may  perhaps  be  proper 
to  remember,  that  they  participated  in  the  character  of  the 
oriental  nations ;  although  they  merit  the  glory  of  havmg 
subsequently  given  to  that  science  its  true  and  peculiar 

character. 

But  in  the  period  in  which  the  prose  style  of  narration 
wa:5  thus  forming,  the  improvement  of  historic  science  ap- 

cite  that  of  Herodotus  on  the  origin  of  Cyrene ;  of  which  the  poetic  source 
seems  unquestionable.  How  many  similar  relations  in  Pausanias  betray  tne 
same  origin !  *  Strabo,  i.  p.  34. 

2  Cicero  de  Oratore,  ii.  12.  '  The  Xoyoypa^oi,  as  Hecatseus  and  others. 


I 


I 


pears  to  have  been  promoted  by  several  very  natural  causes. 
The  larger  number  and  the  most  celebrated  of  those  mytho- 
logical historians  lived  and  flourished  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
sixth  century  before  the  Christian  era ;  that  is,  not  long  be- 
fore the  commencement  of  the  Persian  wars.^  Of  these  the 
earliest  are  said  to  have  been  Cadmus  of  Miletus,  and  He- 
cataeus  of  the  same  place,  Acusilaus  of  Argos,  Pherecydes  of 
Syros,  Charon  of  Lampsacus,  and  several  others  whom  Dio- 
nysius  of  Halicarnassus  enumerates.  They  belong  to  the 
age  in  which  the  nation  was  rising  in  youthful  energy; 
when  it  was  already  extended  to  the  west  and  the  east,  and 
its  flourishing  cities  were  engaged  in  various  commerce; 
when  it  had  become  acquainted  with  many  nations,  and 
travelling  had  begun  to  be  common.  From  the  title  of  the 
works  of  these  narrators  of  traditions,  it  is  evident  that  they 
were  not  careful  to  limit  themselves  to  the  accounts,  which 
they  found  in  the  ancient  epic  poets ;  but  that  they  took  a 
wider  range,  embracing  the  history  of  cities  and  nations, 
and  also  the  description  of  the  coasts  of  the  countries.  A 
proof  of  this  is  found  in  the  catalogue  of  the  writings  of 
Hellanicus  the  Lesbian,  one  of  the  latest  of  them.^ 

These  remarks,  when  considered  in  connexion,  will  serve 
to  show  us  the  character  of  history  before  Herodotus.  It 
was  in  its  origin  entirely  Grecian ;  and  even  when  the  sphere 
of  observation  was  extended  to  foreign  countries,  kept  pace 
with  the  political  advancement  of  the  nation.  It  preserved 
its  poetical  character,  and  therefore  did  not  become  critical ; 
but  it  was  developed  with  perfect  freedom  ;  and  was  never 
held  by  the  priests  in  bondage  to  religion.  As  poetry  had 
for  a  long  time  been  the  means  of  its  preservation,  it  became 
in  some  measure  the  play  of  fancy  (although  epic  poetry 
was  much  more  restricted  than  the  subsequent  lyric  and 
tragic) ;  but  in  return,  as  it  was  propagated  by  no  hiero- 
glyphics, it  could  never,  as  in  Egypt,  degenerate  into  mere 
symbolical  narration.  When  it  came  to  be  transferred  from 
poetry  to  prose,  it  was  necessarily  connected  with  improve- 
ments in  the  art  of  writing ;  and  the  deficiency  of  our  ac- 
counts on  this  subject^  is  one  of  the  chief  reasons  why  we 

'  Between  the  60th  and  70th  Olympiad,  or  540—500  years  B.  C. 

*  See  Creuzer's  Historic  Art  among  the  Greeks  in  its  Origin  and  Progress. 
Compare  Dahlmann's  Historical  Inquiries,  in  the  Life  of  Herodotus,  p.  108, 
especially  on  Hecataeus.  '  See  Wolfii  Prolegom.  p.  xl.  etc. 

p  2 


V 

I 


jmUJLIIIIIIMW^'W^I  I  ll*>ll*» 1 


212 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


213 


are  so  little  able  to  mark  the  progress  of  its  particular 
branches.  But  whatever  influences  these  causes  may  have 
exercised,  the  great  reason  which  retarded  historic  science 
before  Herodotus  lay  in  the  want  of  subjects.' 

Before  the  Persian  wars,  there  was  no  subject  capable  of 
inspiring  the  historian.  The  Trojan  war,  the  Argonautic 
expedition,  all  great  undertakings,  belonged  to  tradition, 
and  hence  belonged  more  than  half  to  poetry.  The  narra- 
tions of  the  origin  of  the  individual  cities,  accounts  of  dis- 
tant nations  and  countries,  might  gratify  curiosity,  might 
afford  amusement ;  but  nothing  more.  There  existed  no 
great  national  subject  of  universal  interest. 

At  length  came  the  Persian  wars.  The  victory  at  Mara- 
thon first  awakened  a  spirit  of  valour ;  whether  this  was 
more  inflamed  by  the  defeat  at  Thermopylae,  or  the  victory 
at  Salamis,  it  is  difficult  to  say ;  with  the  battle  of  Plataeae, 
freedom  was  saved.     What  a  subject  for  the  historic  Muse  ! 

The  subject,  from  its  very  nature,  belonged  exclusively 
to  history  ;  and  poetry  had  no  share  in  it.  It  was  no  sub- 
ject of  hoaiy  antiquity,  nor  yet  of  the  present  moment ;  but 
of  a  period  which  had  but  recently  passed  away.  And  yet  it 
came  so  variously  in  contact  with  tradition,  that  an  historian 
in  a  critical  age  would  often  have  been  compelled  to  take 
his  walks  into  the  regions  of  mythology.  How  much  more, 
then,  at  a  time,  when  the  bounds  between  history  and  tra- 
dition had  not  yet  been  in  the  slightest  degree  marked  out ! 

Herodotus  employed  himself  on  this  subject,  and  managed 
it  in  a  manner  which  surpassed  all  expectation.^     Many 

'  Dahlmann  in  1823  published  his  careful  criticism  on  the  life  of  the  father 
of  Histoiy,  in  the  second  volume  of  his  Historical  Inquiries.  Herodot. ;  aus 
seinem  Buche  sein  Leben.  The  critic  recognises  the  value  of  the  great  his- 
torian, to  whose  just  fame  I  hope  by  this  work  to  have  contributed  something; 
yet  he  proves,  that  on  many  points  an  uncertainty  prevails,  sufficient  to  war- 
rant a  difference  of  opinion.  I  count  among  them,  the  time  of  the  compo- 
sition and  publication  of  the  work  of  Herodotus.  Certainly,  in  its  present 
form,  it  is  not  the  production  of  his  youth  ;  and  it  is  quite  as  improbable  that  it 
could  have  been  written  after  his  seventy-seventh  year.  The  mention  by  Dalh- 
mann  of  several  events  as  late  as  408  B.  C,  warrants  an  inference  only  as 
to  the  time  when  Herodotus  published  his  work,  not  as  to  the  time  when  he 
wrote  it.  The  death  of  Amyrtseus  of  Syncellus,  as  Dahlmann  remarks,  and  as 
the  new  Armenian  edition  of  Eusebius  confirms,  happened  eight  years  earlier, 
that  is,  416  B.  C. ;  and  if  the  Darius,  mentioned  i.  130,  is  Darius  Nothus,  it 
is  surprising  that  he  is  not  more  precisely  designated.  The  most  natural  in- 
ference is,  tnat  Herodotus,  as  a  young  man,  collected  his  materials  on  his 
travels,  wrote  it  at  Thurium  in  the  maturity  of  manhood,  about  444  B.  C, 
but  did  not  publish  it  till  his  old  age.     That  he  formed  his  design  early  and 


things,  it  is  true,  served  to  facilitate  his  labour.     Many  at- 
tempts had  been  made  to  explain  the  earliest  history  of  cities 
and  nations  ;  travelling  had  been  rendered  easy  by  the  exten- 
sive commerce  of  the  Grecian  cities,  and  several  of  his  pre- 
decessors are  known  to  have  visited  many  countries ;  ^  the 
mythological  writers  (Xor^o^pdcpoi)  had  already  formed  the  lan- 
guage for  prosaic  narration ;  and  the  nation  for  which  he  wrote 
was  already  awake  to  the  beauties  of  historic  composition. 
Still  he  was  the  first  who  undertook  to  treat  of  a  purely  histo- 
rical subject ;  and  thus  to  take  the  decisive  step,  which  gave 
to  history  its  rank  as  an  independent  science.    Yet  he  did  not 
limit  himself  to  his  chief  subject,  but  gave  it  such  an  extent, 
that  his  work,  notwithstanding  its  epic  unity,  became  in  a 
certain  sense  a  universal  history.^     Continuing  the  thread 
of  his  story  from  the  times  when  controversies  first  arose  be- 
tween the  Hellenes  and  the  barbarians,  till  those  when  at 
Plataeae  the  war  was  terminated  so  gloriously  for  the  Greeks, 
Hellas,  attacked  but  liberated,  became  the  great  subject  of 
his  narration ;  opportunities  were  constantly  presenting  them- 
selves, or  were  introduced,  of  interweaving  the  description 
and  history  of  the  countries  and  nations,  which  required  to 
be  mentioned,  without  ever  losing  sight  of  his  chief  object, 
to  which  he  returns  from  every  episode.     He  had  himself 
visited  the  greater  part  of  these  countries  and  nations ;  had 
seen  them  with  his  own  eyes ;  had  collected  information 
from  the  most  credible  sources.     But  when  he  enters  upon 
the  antiquities  of  the  nations,  especially  of  his  own,  he  makes 
use  of  the  means  afforded  him  by  his  age  ;  and  here  his 
work  borders  on  those  of  the  earlier  historians  (the  x©7O7pa0o«). 
It  is  no  longer  necessary  to  appear  as  his  defender ;  posterity 
has  not  continued  unjust  towards  him.     No  writer  has  re- 
ceived more  frequent  confirmation  by  the  advances  which, 
within  the  last  thirty  years,  have  been  made  in  the  know- 
ledge of  nations  and  countries,  than  Herodotus,  who  was 
formerly  so  often  the  object  of  ridicule.     But  our  sole  pur- 
pose was  to  show  in  what  manner  the  science  of  history  had 
been  elevated  by  his  choice  of  a  subject ;  and  how  this 

travelled  to  further  it,  cannot  be  doubted.  How  many  an  additional  inquiry 
was  necessary  as  he  composed  it!  It  was  a  work  fit  to  employ  a  long  life. 

'  As  Hecataeus  and  Pherecydes. 

^  Only  the  history  of  the  Assyrians  he  reserved  for  a  separate  work  j  i.  184. 
This  he  probably  never  wrote.    Dahlmann,  p.  227- 


li 


I 

1 


'm 


lUllil 


\i 


2U 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


215 


choice  was  intimately  connected  with  the  impulse  given  to 
the  political  character  of  his  nation. 

The  first  great  step  had  thus  been  taken.  A  purely  his- 
torical subject,  relating  to  the  past,  but  to  no  distant  period, 
and  no  longer  belonging  to  tradition,  had  been  treated  by  a 
master,  who  had  devoted  the  largest  part  of  his  life  to  a  plan, 
framed  with  deliberation  and  executed  with  enthusiasm. 
The  nation  possessed  an  historical  work,  which  first  showed 
what  history  is ;  and  which  was  particularly  well  fitted  to 
awaken  a  taste  for  it.  As  Herodotus  read  his  work  to  all 
Greece  assembled  at  Olympia,  a  youth,  according  to  the 
tradition,  was  incited  by  it  to  become,  not  his  imitator,  but 
his  successor.^ 

Thucydides  appeared.  His  predecessor  had  written  a  his- 
tory of  the  past.  He  became  the  historian  of  his  own  time. 
He  was  the  first  who  seized  on  this  idea,  on  which  the  whole 
character  of  his  work  depends ;  though  others,  especially  the 
ancient  cities,  looked  for  it  in  his  style,  his  eloquence,  and 
other  secondary  matters.  By  this  means  he  advanced  the 
science  of  history  in  a  higher  degree  than  he  himself  was 
aware  of     His  subject  made  him  necessarily  a  critic. 

The  storm  of  the  Persian  wars  had  been  terrific,  but  tran- 
sitory. During  its  continuance,  no  historian  could  appear. 
h  \va5  liut  till  after  its  fury  had  for  some  time  abated,  and 
men  had  regained  their  composure  of  mind,  that  Herodotus 
could  find  a  place.  Amidst  the  splendour  of  the  victories 
which  had  been  gained,  under  the  shade  of  security  won  by 
valour, — with  what  emotions  did  the  Greek  look  back  upon 
those  years  !  Who  could  be  more  welcome  to  him  than  the 

*  That  Thucydides  was  not  present  as  a  hearer  of  Herodotus,  is  clearly- 
proved  by  Dahlmann,  p.  20  and  216.  Had  he,  as  a  youth  of  sixteen  in  the 
year  456  B.  C,  listened  to  Herodotus,  he  must  have  formed  his  purpose  of  be- 
coming an  historian  at  least  two-and-thirty  years  before  he  earned  it  into 
effect,  and  before  he  had  chosen  a  subject ;  for  his  biographer,  Marcellinus, 
informs  us,  that  he  did  not  write  his  history  till  after  his  exile,  that  is,  after 
the  year  424  B.  C.  The  narrative  of  Lucian,  that  Herodotus  read  his  history 
aloud  at  Olympia,  contains  no  date ;  the  assumption  that  it  was  in  456  B.  C, 
rests  on  the  anecdote  about  Thucydides,  which  Lucian  does  not  mention. 
Why  then  may  it  not  have  taken  place  at  a  later  day  ?  Lucian  may  have  co- 
loured the  narrative,  but  hardly  invented  it.  That  such  readings  took  place, 
not  before  the  whole  people,  but  only  before  those  interested,  follows  of 
course  ;  and  if  Herodotus  read  not  his  whole  work,  but  only  a  part  of  it,  (and 
his  work  was  probably  finished  by  portions.)  the  difficulties  suggested  by 
Dahlmann  disappear.  These  remarks  are  designed  not  to  prove  the  truth 
of  the  narrative,  but  to  show  that  it  does  not  involve  improbabilities. 


^ 


i 


historian,  who  painted  for  him  this  picture  of  his  own  glory, 
not  only  as  a  whole,  but  in  its  parts  !  The  age  of  Thucydides, 
on  the  contrary,  was  full  of  grandeur,  but  of  difficulties. 
In  the  long  and  obstinate  war  with  one  another,  the  Gre- 
cian states  sought  to  overturn  each  other  from  their  very 
foundations.  It  was  not  the  age  of  wars  only,  but  of  revo- 
lutions with  all  their  horrors.  Whether  a  man  were  an  aris- 
tocrat or  democrat,  a  friend  of  Athens  or  of  Sparta,  was  the 
question  on  which  depended  fortune,  liberty,  and  life.  A 
beneficent  reverse  rescued  Thucydides  from  the  whirlpool ; 
and  gave  him  that  immortality,  which  the  capture  of  Am- 
phipolis  never  could  have  conferred  on  him.'  The  fruit  of 
his  leisure  was  the  history  of  his  age  ;  a  work  he  himself  pro- 
posed to  write,  and  actually  wrote,  for  eternity.^ 

This  is  not  the  place  to  eulogize  the  man,  who  remained 
calm  amidst  all  the  turbulence  of  the  passions,  the  only  exile  . 
that  has  written  an  impartial  history.  His  acquaintance  with 
states  and  business,  his  deep  political  acuteness,  his  style, 
nervous,  though  occasionally  uncouth, — have  all  been  illus- 
trated by  others.  We  will  only  allow  ourselves  to  show,  by 
a  few  remarks,  how  much  historic  science  was  advanced  by 
the  nature  of  his  subject. 

The  undertaking  of  the  man  who  was  the  first  to  form  the 
idea  of  writing  the  history  of  his  own  times,  and  of  events 
in  which  he  himself  had  a  share,  must  not  be  compared  with 
that  of  the  modern  writer,  who  compiles  it  from  many  writ- 
ten documents.  He  was  compelled  to  investigate  every 
thing  by  personal  inquiry ;  and  that,  too,  in  a  period  when 
every  thing  was  misrepresented  by  passion  and  party  spirit. 
But  antiquity  had  not  inwrapped  his  subject  in  the  veil  of 
tradition,  nor  had  it  in  its  nature  any  epic  interest.  The 
subject  was  thoroughly  prosaic ;  setting  before  the  writer  no 
other  aim,  than  that  of  exhibiting  the  truth.  In  this  lay  the 
sole  interest ;  and  to  ascertain  and  repeat  the  truth,  is  all 
which  we  can  fairly  demand  of  the  historian.  We  honour 
and  respect  him,  because,  penetrated  with  the  consciousness 
of  his  dignity,  he  never  for  a  moment  becomes  untrue  to  it. 

»  After  Amphipolis  had  been  taken  by  Brasidas,  Thucydides  was  accused 
of  having  come  too  late  to  the  assistance  of  that  city,  and  was  banished  by 
the  Athenian  people ;  he  actually  passed  twenty  j^ears  in  exile  in  Thrace, 
where  he  possessed  valuable  mines.  Let  Thucydides  himself  be  heard  on 
this  subject,  iv.  104,  and  v.  26.  '  Kr^/*a  Ug  del.    Thucyd.  i.  22. 


I''!  i 


I 
I 


^16 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XIV. 


SCIENCES  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


217 


A  sentiment  of  reverence  accompanies  us  from  the  first  to 
the  last  leaf  of  his  work.  Not  the  historian.  History  herself 
seems  to  address  us. 

But  to  what  new  views  must  he  have  been  led,  when,  with 
the  desire  of  arriving  at  truth,  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  form 
under  which  history  had  thus  far  appeared  !  It  was  his  im- 
mediate aim  to  relate  the  events  of  his  own  times ;  but  the 
preceding  age  could  not  remain  wholly  excluded  from  the 
sphere  of  his  observation.  It  appeared  to  him  clothed  in 
the  mantle  of  tradition ;  and  he  who  scrutinized  every  thing 
with  care,  was  not  caught  by  its  delusive  splendour.  He 
endeavoured  to  contemplate  antiquity  as  it  was,  to  take  from 
it  this  false  glare,  leaving  nothing  but  the  light  of  truth ;  and 
thus  was  produced  that  invaluable  introduction  which  pre- 
cedes his  work. 

By  such  means  Thucydides  was  the  inventor  of  an  art, 
which  before  him  had  been  almost  unknown,  the  art  of  his- 
toric criticism  ;  without  being  conscious  of  the  infinite  value 
of  his  invention.  For  he  did  not  apply  it  to  all  branches  of 
knowledge,  but  only  to  his  subject,  because  it  was  a  natural 
consequence  of  that  subject.  The  historic  Muse  had  made 
him  acquainted  with  her  most  secret  nature ;  no  one  before 
or  after  him  has  drawn  the  line  more  clearly  between  history 
and  tradition.  And  what  is  this,  but  to  draw  the  distinction 
between  the  historic  culture  of  the  East  and  West  ?  and — if 
we  recognise  how  much  depended  on  this  historic  culture — 
between  the  whole  scientific  culture  of  the  East  and  West? 
For  to  repeat  a  remark,  which  has  already  been  cursorily 
made,  the  great  difference  between  the  two  consists  in  this ; 
in  the  West,  the  free  spirit  of  criticism  was  developed,  and 
in  the  East  never. 

It  is  therefore  just  to  say,  that  Thucydides  advanced  a 
giant's  step.  It  is  just  to  say,  that  he  rose  above  his  age ; 
neither  his  own  nor  the  following  could  reach  him.  Poetic 
tradition  was  too  deeply  interwoven  with  Grecian  history,  to 
admit  of  an  entire  separation.  A  Theopompus  and  Ephorus, 
whenever  the  heroic  age  was  to  be  discussed,  drew  their  ma- 
terials with  as  little  concern  from  the  writers  of  mythological 
fables  and  the  poets,  as  if  Thucydides  never  had  written. 

A  fliird  step  yet  remained  to  be  taken ;  and  it  was  in 
some  respects  the  most  dangerous  of  all ;  to  become  the  his- 


torian of  one's  own  exploits.  This  step  was  taken  by  Xeno- 
phon.  For  when  we  speak  of  his  historic  writings,  his 
Anabasis  so  far  surpasses  the  rest,  that  it  alone  deserves  to 
be  mentioned.  But  this  new  step  may  with  propriety  be 
called  one  of  the  most  important.  Would  that  he  who  ven- 
tured to  take  it,  had  found  many  successors !  By  the  mild- 
ness and  modesty  of  his  personal  character,  Xenophon  was 
secured  from  the  faults,  into  which  men  are  so  apt  to  fall, 
when  they  describe  their  own  actions ;  although  these  vir- 
tues and  the  nature  of  his  subject  could  not  give  his  work 
those  superior  qualities,  which  the  genius  of  Caesar  knew 
how  to  impart  to  his  Commentaries. 

Thus,  in  the  period  of  their  freedom,  all  the  principal  kinds 
of  history  were  developed  among  the  Greeks.  What  was 
done  afterwards,  can  hardly  be  called  progress,  although  the 
subjects  of  history  grew  more  various  and  more  extensive 
with  the  enlarged  sphere  of  pohtics  in  the  Macedonian  and 
Roman  age ;  and  the  idea  of  a  universal  history  was  more 
distinctly  entertained.  But  after  the  downfal  of  liberty, 
when  rhetoric  became  prevalent  and  was  applied  to  history, 
the  higher  kind  of  criticism  ceased  to  be  employed  in  it. 
The  style,  the  manner  in  which  a  subject  was  treated,  was  re- 
garded ;  not  the  subject  itself.  The  essence  was  forgotten  in 
disputes  about  the  form.  We  have  abundant  proofs  of  this  in 
the  judgments  of  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  who  has  never- 
theless been  usually  mentioned  as  the  first  of  these  critics. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

POETRY  AND  THE  ARTS  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 

Whether  in  our  inquiries  on  the  political  institutions  of 
Greece,  their  poetry  and  arts  must  be  considered, — will 
hardly  be  made  a  question  by  any  of  my  readers.  Almost 
every  one  of  the  preceding  chapters  has  served  to  show  how 
closely  they  were  connected  with  the  state.  Yet  our 
remarks  must  be  limited  to  the  question:  What  was  the 
nature,  and  what  were  the  consequences  of  this  connexion  ? 


■% 


I 


I 


218 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XV. 


POETRY  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


219 


But  even  in  answering  this  we  might  be  carried  very  far, 
ii  we  were  to  pass  the  bounds  which  the  character  of  this 
work  prescribes.  In  speaking  of  poetry,  we  would  princi- 
pally consider  the  dramatic ;  since  we  have  already  spoken 
of  the  epic.  But  the  drama  can  hardly  be  discussed,  sepa- 
rate from  lyric  poetry.  We  place  the  arts  in  immediate 
connexion  with  poetry,  because  nature  herself  had  united 
them  among  the  Greeks ;  among  whom  the  arts  are  as  it 
were  the  key  to  poetry.  The  remark  of  a  modern  critic^  is 
perfectly  true,  that  the  masterpieces  of  the  plastic  art  fur- 
nish the  best  commentary  on  the  tragedians.  Although  it 
is  not  always  the  same  persons  whom  the  poets  and  the 
sculptors  bring  before  us,  we  yet  derive  from  them  our 
conceptions  of  the  ideal  forms.  He  who  has  seen  the  sub- 
lime figures  of  Niobe  and  Laocoon,  can  easily  represent  to 
his  mind  an  Electra  or  an  QEdipus  in  the  forms  under 
which  they  floated  in  the  mind  of  the  poet. 

With  the  advancing  culture  of  Greece,  the  connexion  be- 
tween poetry  and  arts  and  the  state  increased  ;  and  was 
most  intimate  in  its  flourishing  age.  Even  the  earliest  law- 
givers of  the  Greeks  regarded  poetry  as  the  chief  means  of 
forming  the  character  of  youth  ;  and  of  exercising  an  influ- 
ence on  their  riper  years.  But  in  an  age  when  there  was 
as  yet  no  literature,  poetry  could  not  be  separate  from  song ; 
and  was  commonly  accompanied  with  an  instrument.  Hence 
came  the  meaning  of  the  word  music,  which  embraced  all 
this  together.  Yet  this  is  chiefly  true  of  lyric  poetry,  which, 
as  the  immediate  expression  of  the  feelings  of  the  poet,  was 
much  more  intimately  connected  with  song  than  the  epic. 
If  we  do  but  bear  constantly  in  mind  the  leading  idea  which 
the  Greek  had  framed  of  a  state,  as  a  moral  person  that  was 
to  govern  itself,  we  can  comprehend  the  whole  importance, 
which  music,  in  the  wider  sense  of  the  word,  possessed  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Grecian  lawgivers.  It  seemed  to  them  in 
that  age,  when  there  was  as  yet  no  philosophic  culture, 
when  the  feelings  and  the  management  of  the  feelings  were 
of  the  greatest  moment,  the  best  means  of  influencing  them ; 
and  we  need  not  be  astonished,  when  we  read  in  Plutarch*^ 


'  A.  W.  Schlegel,  iiber  dramatische  Kunst  und  Litteratur,  Th.  i.  s.  67- 
W.  Schlegel,  on  Dramatic  Literature. 
*  In  his  essay  De  Musica.    Op.  ii.  p.  1131. 


A. 


and  other  writers,  of  the  great  severity  with  which  the  laws, 
especially  in  Sparta,  insisted  on  the  preservation  of  the  an- 
cient music,  and  the  established  tunes.  It  may  be  difficult  in 
our  days,  when  music  is  no  longer  considered  the  lever  of  na- 
tional force,^  to  form  any  distinct  idea  of  those  institutions 
of  the  ancients.  But  as  human  nature  is  never  untrue  to 
itself,  institutions  which  are  founded  on  it  are  always  pre- 
served to  a  certain  extent  and  under  certain  forms.  In  the 
nineteenth  century,  in  which  there  is  no  longer  any  danger 
of  corrupting  a  nation  by  changes  in  music,  (although  it 
would  be  very  presumptuous  to  give  a  hasty  opinion  on  its 
influence  and  effects,)  no  regiment  is  raised  without  its 
band  ;  and  the  commander,  who  instead  of  a  warlike  march 
should  order  a  dirge  to  be  played,  would  justly  incur  the 
same  reproaches  with  him,  who  in  ancient  days  made  an 
unseasonable  use  of  the  Lydian  instead  of  the  Dorian 
measure. 

Lyric  poetry  was  moreover  intimately  connected  with  the 
popular  religion  ;  or  was  in  fact  a  result  of  it ;  for  hymns  in 
praise  of  the  gods  are  mentioned  as  its  first  fruits.^  It  was 
therefore  important  to  the  state  as  a  support  of  the  popular 
religion,  particularly  by  contributing  to  the  splendour  of 
the  festivals.  For  when  was  a  festival  celebrated  by  the 
Greeks,  and  the  songs  of  the  poets  not  heard  ?  But  they 
received  their  greatest  importance  from  the  institution  of 
choral  songs.  These  choruses,  even  independent  of  the 
drama,  were  the  chief  ornament  of  the  festivals ;  and  were 
composed  of  persons  of  various  ages.  Tiere  were  those  of 
youths,  of  men,  and  of  the  aged  ;  which  responded  to  each 
other  alternately  in  song.^  As  the  festivals  were  a  public 
concern,  so  too  were  the  choruses ;  and  we  have  no  cause 
to  be  astonished,  that  the  preparation  of  them  formed  a  part 
of  the  civil  burdens. 

The  choral  song  at  the  festivals  was  as  ancient  as  the 

'  That  in  his  times,  when  music  was  used  only  in  the  theatres,  it  had  lost  its 
ancient  aj)plication,  is  the  complaint  of  Plutarch,  ii.  1140. 

*  "  Music,"  says  Plutarch,  ii.  p.  1 140,  "  was  first  made  use  of  in  the  temples 
and  sacred  places  in  praise  of  the  gods,  and  for  the  instruction  of  youth ; 
long  before  it  was  introduced  into  the  theatres,  which  at  that  time  were  not 
in  existence." 

See  in  particular  the  whole  oration  of  Demosthenes  against  Midias,  who 
had  abused  Demosthenes  as  choragusj  or  leader  of  the  chorus. 


.1  -f 
I 


ii' 


I 


I 


/ 


220 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XV. 


POETRY  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


221 


heroic  age,  or  at  least  as  the  times  of  Homer/  Although  it 
was  capable  of  receiving  great  ornaments,  and  did  actually 
receive  them,  it  did  not  necessarily  require  any  great  pre- 
parations. The  similar  spectacles  which  modern  travellers 
have  witnessed  in  the  islands  of  the  South  Sea,  especially 
the  Society  Islands,  carry  us  back  to  the  earlier  world  of 
Greece.  The  drama  was  the  result  of  those  choruses  ;  but 
from  its  nature  it  could  only  be  a  later  fruit  of  the  poetic 
spirit  of  the  nation. 

The  drama  interests  us  here  only  in  its  connexion  with 
the  state.  But  this  inquiry  goes  very  deeply  into  its  nature. 
A  question  arises  of  a  twofold  character :  What  did  the  state 
do  for  the  drama,  and  in  what  respects  was  the  drama,  by 
its  nature  and  organization,  connected  with  and  of  import- 
ance to  the  state  ? 

Dramatic  poetry,  whose  object  is  to  give  a  distinct  and 
lively  representation  of  an  action,  always  requires  decora- 
tions, however  splendid  or  paltry  they  may  be ;  and  an  as- 
sembly, before  which  the  representation  may  be  made. 
Dramatic  poetry  is  therefore  essentially  more  public  than 
that  of  any  other  description.  Of  all  kinds  of  verse,  this 
concerns  the  state  the  most  nearly.  Among  the  Greeks  we 
may  add,  that  it  was  an  affair  of  religion,  and  therefore  an 
essential  part  of  their  festivals.  But  these  festivals  were  en- 
tirely an  affair  of  the  state ;  they  belonged,  as  has  been 
observed  above,  to  the  most  urgent  political  wants.  Here 
then  we  find  a  reason  why  the  state  should  not  only  have 
so  much  encouraged  dramatic  exhibitions,  but  have  even 
considered  them  no  less  essential  than  the  popular  assem- 
blies and  popular  tribunals.  A  Grecian  state  could  not 
exist  without  festivals,  nor  festivals  without  choruses  and 
plays. 

In  what  manner  the  state  encouraged  the  drama,  we 
know  only  with  respect  to  Athens.  But  that  the  other 
Grecian  cities  in  the  mother  country,  and  also  in  the  colo- 
nies, had  their  theatres  no  less  than  Athens,  is  apparent 
from  the  remains  of  them,  which  are  almost  always  to  be 
luuuJ  wherever  there  are  traces  of  a  Grecian  city.  The 
theatres  were  built  and  decorated  at  the  public  expense ; 

'  See  the  Hymn,  in  Apoll.  v.  147,  etc.  respecting  the  choruses  at  the 
Ionian  festivals  in  Delos. 


we  find  in  Grecian  cities  no  instance,  as  far  as  my  know- 
ledge extends,  where  private  persons  erected  them,  as  was 
usual  in  Rome.  Their  structure  was  always  the  same,  such 
as  may  still  be  seen  in  Herculaneum  ;  and  we  must  therefore 
infer,  that  all  the  external  means  of  representation  remained 
the  same ;  although  the  wealth  and  taste  of  individual  cities 
introduced  higher  degrees  of  splendour ;  which  in  our  times 
we  may  observe  in  our  larger  cities,  compared  with  the 
smaller  or  provincial  towns.  But  from  the  remains  of  the 
Grecian  theatres,  the  size  and  extent  of  these  buildings  are 
apparent,  and  their  great  dissimilarity  in  this  respect  to 
modern  ones.  If  they  had  not  been  regarded  as  a  real 
want,  and  if  the  emulation  of  the  cities  had  not  also  exerted 
its  influence,  we  might  doubt  whether  sufficient  means 
could  have  been  found  for  erecting  them. 

The  bringing  forward  of  the  single  plays  belonged  to  the 
civil  burdens,  (Xenovpr^iai,)  which  the  opulent  were  obliged 
to  bear  in  rotation,  or  which  they  voluntarily  assumed.  We 
can  hardly  doubt,  that  these  regulations  in  other  cities  re- 
sembled those  in  Athens,  though  on  this  subject  we  have 
no  distinct  testimony.  Thus  the  state  threw  these  expenses 
in  part  upon  private  persons ;  but  the  matter  was  not  the 
less  a  public  concern,  for  this  expense  was  considered  as  a 
contribution  due  to  the  state.  But  another  regulation  may 
astonish  us  still  more  than  this ;  the  regulation  by  which 
money  was  granted  from  the  public  treasury  to  the  poorer 
citizens,  that  they  might  be  able  to  visit  the  theatres.  This 
was  the  case  in  Athens,  though  not  till  the  times  in  which 
the  state  began  to  sink  under  the  moral  corruption  of  its 
citizens.  The  desire  of  pleasure  may  in  such  periods  dege- 
nerate into  a  sort  of  phrensy ;  and  the  preservation  of  tran- 
quillity may  demand  sacrifices,  which  are  reluctantly  made 
even  by  those  who  consent. 

Though  the  oldest  dramatic  essays  among  the  Greeks  may 
be  of  a  more  remote  age,  there  is  no  doubt  that  ^schylus 
was  the  father,  not  only  of  the  finished  drama,  but  also  of 
the  Grecian  stage.  It  was  not,  therefore,  till  after  the  vic- 
tories over  the  Persians  (he  himself  fought  in  the  battle  of 
Salamis)  that  a  theatre  of  stone  was  erected  in  Athens ;  ^ 

'  The  occasion  is  related  by  Suidas  in  npanVac.  At  the  representation  of  a  play 
of  ^schylus,  the  wooden  scaffold,  on  which  the  spectators  stood,  gave  way. 


i 


I 


I 

1 


-'''I 


lilr, 


222 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XV. 


and  all  that  concerns  the  drama  began  to  be  developed  in 
that  city.  The  contests  of  the  poets,  which  were  introduced 
till  re  at  the  festivals  of  Bacchus,  and  which,  though  they 
cost  the  state  only  a  crown,  rewarded  the  poet  more  than 
gold  could  have  done,  contributed  much  to  excite  emula- 
tion, it  was  about  this  time  that  Athens  began  to  be  the 
seat  of  Hterature,  and  in  the  scale  of  poHtical  importance  the 
first  state  in  Greece.  Hence  we  can  explain  the  remark- 
able fact,  that  the  dramatic  art  seemed  in  that  city  as  at 
home.  Athens  directed  the  taste  of  the  other  cities ;  and 
without  being  the  capital  in  the  same  degree  as  Paris  and 
London,  her  great  superiority  in  intellectual  culture  secured 
to  her  that  supremacy,  which  was  the  more  glorious,  as  it 
rested  not  on  violence,  but  on  the  voluntary  concession  of 
her  pre-eminence. 

I  am  acquainted  with  no  investigation  of  the  question,  in 
what  manner,  after  the  erection  of  a  stage  at  Athens,  the- 
atrical amusements  were  extended  throughout  the  other 
Grecian  cities.  The  ruins  which  remain  in  them  leave  it 
still  uncertain  when  they  were  built ;  and  where  can  we 
find  dates  to  settle  this  point  ?  But  so  many  vestiges  make 
it  highly  probable,  that  the  drama  was  introduced  into  the 
other  cities  before  the  Macedonian  age.  Neither  tragic  nor 
comic  poets  were  at  home  in  Athens  exclusively ;  but  start- 
ed up  in  the  most  various  regions  of  the  Grecian  world/ 
Athenian  poets  were  invited  to  resort  to  the  courts  of  foreign 
princes.^  A  king  of  Syracuse  was  himself  a  tragic  poet.^  In 
the  same  city,  Athenian  captives  regained  their  liberty  by 
fragments  from  the  tragedies  of  Euripides.  The  inhabitants  of 
Abdera,  when  their  fellow-citizen  Archelaus  played  the  part 
of  Andromeda,  were  seized  with  a  theatric  passion  bordering 
on  madness.*  Other  proofs,  if  necessary,  might  be  found. 
It  may  seem  doubtful,  whether  the  same  may  be  said  of  the 
romic  drama ;  which  in  Athens  was  of  so  local  a  character, 
that  it  could  hardly  have  been  understood  in  the  other  cities ; 
or  at  least  much  of  its  wit  must  have  been  lost.     But  is  it 

'  Abundant  proof  may  be  found  in  Fabricii  Bibl.  Gr.  T.  i.  in  the  Catalog. 
Tragiconim  et  Comicorum  deperditonim. 

^Euripides  was  invited  to  repair  to  the  court  of  Archelaus,  king  of  Mace- 
donia. 

^  Dionysius  the  elder.  A  fragment  of  his  has  been  preserved  in  Stob. 
Eclog.  i.  iv.  19. 

*  Lucian.  de  conscrib.  histor.  Op.  iv.  p.  159,  Bip. 


POETRY  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


223 


safe  from  the  few  remaining  pieces  of  a  single  comic  poet  to 
judge  of  the  hundreds  produced  by  a  multitude  of  others, 
and  no  longer  extant  ? 

To  answer  the  other  question,  In  what  relation  the  theatre 
among  the  Greeks,  from  its  very  nature,  stood  to  the  state, 
we  must  distinguish  its  two  chief  divisions.  Before  the 
Macedonian  age,  while  comedy  was  still  permitted  to  pre- 
serve its  republican  character,^  tragedy  and  comedy,  as  there 
were  no  intermediate  kinds,^  remained  as  different  from  each 
other  as  seriousness  and  mirth.  They  had  no  points  of  contact. 

Tragedy,  introducing  upon  the  stage  the  heroes  of  Greece, 
was  the  representation  of  great  events  of  the  elder  days,  ac- 
cording to  the  ideal  conceptions  of  the  Greeks  ;^  comedy,  on 
the  contrary,  was  the  parody  of  the  present ;  as  we  shall  here- 
after illustrate  more  fully.  In  these  explanations,  the  whole 
difference  of  the  two  has  been  expressed. 

Tragedy  was  in  certain  respects  a  result  of  epic  poetry. 
For  this  had  always  preserved  the  recollection  of  the  heroic 
age;  without  which  the  tragic  poets  would  have  had  to 
contend  with  no  less  difficulties,  than  the  moderns,  when 
they  have  borrowed  subjects  from  the  fables  of  the  North. 
It  was  only  necessary  to  mention  the  name  of  the  chief  per- 
son, and  the  whole  story  of  his  adventures  was  recalled  to 
every  mind.  Hence  the  artificial  weaving  of  a  plot,  was  only 
so  far  a  duty  of  the  poet  as  the  nature  of  the  drama  requires ; 
grandeur  and  liveliness  of  manner  were,  on  the  contrary,  far 
more  in  the  spirit  of  the  heroic  world.  Not  the  event,  but 
the  character  of  the  action,  was  important.  Whether  the 
issue  was  fortunate  or  unfortunate,  was  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence ;  but  it  was  necessary  that  the  action  should  be  in  it- 
self sublime ;  should  be  the  result  of  the  play  of  the  passions ; 

'  The  old  comedy,  as  it  was  called. 

*  The  satiric  drama,  as  it  was  called,  was  not  an  intermediate  class,  but  a 
corruption  of  tragedy. 

'  Two  plays,  the  Persians  of  ^schylus,  and  the  Destruction  of  Miletus  of 
Phrynichus,  formed  exceptions.  But  they  had  no  imitators ;  and  the  last-men- 
tioned poet  was  even  punished  for  it  by  the  Athenians.  Herod,  vi.  21.  Here 
too  we  observe  the  correct  judgment  of  the  nation,  which  desired,  in  the  tragic 
drama,  an  excitement  of  the  passions ;  but  purely  of  the  passions,  without 
any  personal  allusions.  This  was  possible  only  in  subjects  taken  from  early 
times.  But  still  a  certain  regard  for  historic  truth,  as  contained  in  the  tradi- 
tions, was  required  by  the  Grecian  taste.  Subjects  altogether  fictitious  were 
unknown.  The  consequences  of  this  deserve  to  be  illustrated  at  large.  If 
the  tragic  drama  was  thus  limited  to  the  traditions  respecting  the  heroes,  it 
at  the  same  time  obtained  a  certain  solemn  support  which  gave  it  dignity. 


I 


■■ 


!W 


n 


I 


I 


lit 


•K 


\ 


224: 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XV. 


and  should  never  depart  from  the  gravity,  which  is  as  it 
were  the  colouring  of  the  world  of  heroes.  In  this  consists 
the  tragic  part  of  the  drama.  But  though  the  final  event 
was  in  itself  indifferent,  the  poets  naturally  preferred  subjects 
in  which  it  was  unfortunate  for  the  chief  personages.  In  such 
the  tragic  interest  was  the  greatest ;  the  catastrophe  the  most 
fearful ;  the  effect  least  uncertain.  A  tragic  issue  suited  best 
the  whole  character  of  the  kind  of  poetry. 

The  tragic  drama  could  have  but  few  points  of  relation 
with  the  state.  The  political  world  which  was  here  exhibited, 
was  entirely  different  from  the  actual  one  of  the  times ;  the 
forms  of  monarchy  alone  were  introduced  on  the  stage. 
The  same  remark,  therefore,  which  has  been  made  respecting 
the  epic,  is  true  also  of  the  tragic  poetry  of  the  Greeks. 
The  violent  commotions  in  the  ancient  royal  families,  and 
their  extinction,  were  not  represented  to  make  them  objects 
of  contempt  or  hatred,  and  to  quicken  the  spirit  of  republic- 
anism ;  but  solely  because  no  other  actions  equally  possessed 
the  sublimity  of  the  tragic  character.  But  the  moral  effects 
which  were  produced  by  these  representations  may  have 
been  politically  important.  Whilst  the  Grecian  continued 
to  live  in  the  heroic  world,  that  elevation  of  mind  could  not  so 
well  disappear,  which  is  seen  so  frequently  in  the  acts  of  the 
nation.  If  Homer  and  the  epic  poets  first  raised  its  spirit 
to  the  sublimity  belonging  to  it,  the  tragic  poets  did  much 
to  preserve  that  elevated  tone.  And  if  this  elevated  spirit 
formed  the  strength  of  the  state,  they  have  as  strong  a  claim 
to  immortality,  as  the  military  commanders  and  the  leaders 
of  the  people. 

Comedy  was  more  closely  allied  to  the  state ;  as  we  may 
presuppose  from  the  circumstance,  that  it  had  relation  to  the 
present  and  not  to  the  past.  We  have  explained  it  above  to 
be  the  parody  of  the  present,^  that  is,  of  the  contemporary 
public  condition,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  Greeks  under- 
stand this  expression.     Private  life,  as  such,  was  never  the 

•J  ^'  Y*  ^J^^^^^^'  ^"  ^is  work  on  Dramatic  Literature  and  Art,  i.  p.  271,  con- 
siders the  characteristic  of  comedy  to  have  been,  that  it  was  a  parody  of  tra- 
gedy. It  certainly  was  so  veiy  frequently,  and  thus  far  his  remark  is  correct. 
Tragedy  was  a  part  of  the  public  life;  the  parody  of  tragedy  was  therefore  a 
fit  subject  for  the  comic  stage;  and  the  relation  between  the  tragic  and  comic 
poets  was  such,  that  the  latter  were  naturally  fond  of  ridiculing  the  former. 
The  readers  of  Aristophanes  know  this.  Yet  we  must  be  very  careful  how 
we  thus  confine  the  range  of  comedy.     It  was  not  essentially  a  parody. 


POETRY  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


225 


subject  of  comedy,  except  so  far  as  it  was  connected  with 
the  public.  But  these  points  of  contact  were  so  many  and 
so  various,  that  the  comic  poet  could  not  but  frequently  pre- 
sent views  of  private  life.  The  relation  of  comedy  was 
therefore  altogether  political,  so  far  as  we  comprehend  every 
thing  public  under  this  word.  But  the  scenes  which  were 
exhibited  were  not  represented  with  fidelity,  but  were  cari- 
catured. This  seems  to  have  been  agreed  upon  by  a  silent 
convention;  and  therefore  such  representations  could  not 
injure  those  against  whom  they  were  directed,  much  more 
than  the  caricature  prints  of  our  times.  We  would  not  be 
understood  to  justify  unconditionally  the  incredible  impu- 
dence of  the  Grecian  comic  poets,  in  whose  eyes  neither 
men,  nor  morals,  nor  the  gods  were  sacred.  But  a  public 
tribunal  of  character  is  an  actual  necessity,  where  a  popular 
government  exists ;  and  in  those  times  what  other  such  tri- 
bunal could  have  existed  than  the  theatre  ?  Whatever  excited 
public  attention,  whether  in  persons  or  in  things,  it  might 
be  expected,  would  be  brought  upon  the  stage.  The  most 
powerful  demagogue,  in  the  height  of  his  power,  did  not 
escape  this  fate ;  nay,  the  people  of  Athens  itself  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  itself  personified,  and  brought  upon  the 
stage,  where  it  could  laugh  at  itself,  till  it  was  satisfied  with 
mirth ;  ^  and — crowned  the  poet  for  having  done  it.  What 
is  our  freedom  of  the  press,  our  licentiousness  of  the  press, 
compared  with  this  dramatic  freedom  and  licentiousness  ? 

But  though  the  ridicule  of  the  comic  poets  could  not 
much  injure  the  individual  against  whom  it  chanced  to  be 
directed,  the  question  is  still  by  no  means  answered,  What 
consequences  had  the  comic  drama  for  the  state,  and  for 
morals,  which  with  the  Greeks  were  inseparably  connected 
with  the  state  ?  Those  judgments  passed  on  public  charac- 
ters may  have  had  some  influence,  but  not  a  great  deal ; 
unless  perhaps  to  make  men  more  cautious ;  and  this  was  no 
small  consideration.  When  we  see  that  Pericles,  notwith- 
standing all  the  attacks  of  the  comic  poets,^  was  not  to  be 
deposed,  and  that  even  Cleon,  when  he  had  been  made  a 
public  jest  in  the  person  of  the  Paphlagonian,  lost  nothing 
of  his  influence,  we  cannot  make  a  very  high  estimate  of 

'  As  in  the  Knights  of  Aristophanes. 

^  Specimens  of  them  may  be  seen  in  Plutarch.    Op.  i.  p.  620. 

Q 


!f 


il 


V'i 


i 


I  i 


% 


I    ''; 


It; 


( 


226 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XV. 


THE  ARTS  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


227 


that  advantage.  So  far  as  morals  are  concerned,  it  is  true, 
that  the  ideas  of  propriety  are  conventional ;  and  that  it 
would  be  wrong  to  infer  from  a  violation  of  them  in  lan- 
guage, a  corresponding  violation  in  action.  The  inhabitant 
of  the  North,  who  has  not  grown  accustomed  to  the  much 
greater  licence  given  to  the  tongue  by  the  southern  nations, 
may  here  easily  be  mistaken.  The  jokes  of  Harlequin,  espe- 
cially in  his  extemporaneous  performances,  are  often  hardly 
less  unrestrained  than  those  of  Aristophanes ;  and  the  south- 
ern countries  are  not  on  that  account  on  the  whole  more 
corrupt  than  the  northern,  although  some  offences  are  more 
common  in  the  former.  But  the  incredible  levity  with 
which  the  rules  of  modesty  were  transgressed,  could  not  re- 
main without  consequences.  Another  important  point  is 
the  influence  of  comedy  on  the  religion  of  the  people.  The 
comic  poets  were  careful  never  to  appear  as  atheists ;  that 
would  have  led  to  exile ;  they  rather  defended  the  popular 
rehgion.  But  the  manner  in  which  this  was  done,  was  often 
worse  than  a  direct  attack.  Who  could  appear  with  reverent 
devotion  at  the  altar  of  Jove,  after  growing  weary  with 
laughing  at  him  in  the  Clouds,  or  after  having  seen  him  pay 
court  to  earthly  beauties  ?  Even  on  the  minds  of  the  most 
frivolous  nation  in  the  world,  indelible  impressions  must 
have  been  made. 

The  ancient  comedy  has  commonly  been  called  a  political 
farce;  and  the  expression  is  just,  if  we  interpret  the  word 
political  in  the  wide  sense  in  which  we  have  explained  it. 
It  is  sufficiently  known,  that,  after  the  downfal  of  the  popu- 
lar rule,  there  was  no  longer  any  field  for  this  ancient 
comedy,  that  it  lost  its  sting  in  the  middle  comedy  as  it  is 
termed,  and  that  the  new  was  of  an  entirely  different  charac- 
ter.^ As  this  new  kind  lost  its  local  character  with  the  per- 
sonal allusions,  the  old  obstacles  to  its  diffusion  throughout 
the  Grecian  world  no  longer  existed.  And  though  we  may 
doubt  whether  the  plays  of  Cratinus  and  Aristophanes  were 
ever  acted  out  of  Athens,  no  question  can  certainly  be  raised 
with  respect  to  those  of  Menander  and  Diphilus.  But  as 
this  new  species  of  theatrical  composition  was  not  introduced 

'  The  difference  of  these  kinds  is  best  explained  in  the  excellent  work  of 
Schlegel,  i.  p.  326. 


and  perfected  till  the  Macedonian  age,  the  subject  does  not 
fall  within  the  sphere  of  our  observations. 

With  our  notions  we  should  think  the  connexion  of  the 
arts  with  politics  much  less  than  of  the  theatre  ;  and  yet  it 
was  among  the  Greeks  even  closer  and  more  various.  The 
encouragement  of  the  arts  is  in  our  times  left  chiefly  to  pri- 
vate taste  ;  and  is  greater  or  smaller  according  to  the  num- 
ber of  amateurs.  The  state  takes  an  interest  in  them  only 
to  prevent  their  total  decay,  or  for  the  sake  of  some  parti- 
cular design. 

The  case  was  entirely  different  in  the  period  when  they 
flourished  among  the  Greeks.  The  arts  with  them  were  ex- 
clusively public,  and  not  at  all  an  affair  of  individuals.  They 
afterwards  became  so,  yet  never  in  the  same  degree  as  with 
us ;  nor  even  as  with  the  Romans.  These  positions  require 
to  be  further  developed  and  more  accurately  proved. 

By  the  arts  we  mean  the  three  great  branches  of  them, 
architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting.  On  each  of  these  we 
have  some  remarks  to  offer. 

Architecture  is  distinguished  from  the  two  others  by  the 
circumstance,  that  its  object  is  use  no  less  than  beauty.  Not 
only  the  moderns,  but  the  Romans  of  the  later  ages,  endea- 
voured to  unite  them  both;  and  in  this  manner' private 
buildings  became  objects  of  art.  Among  the  Greeks,  a  tend- 
ency to  this  seems  to  have  existed  in  the  heroic  age.  In  a 
former  chapter,  we  remarked  that  in  the  dwellings  and  halls 
of  the  kings,  there  prevailed  a  certain  grandeur  and  splen- 
dour, which,  however,  we  shall  hardly  be  wiUing  to  desig- 
nate by  the  name  of  scientific  architecture.  When  the 
monarchical  forms  disappeared,  and  living  in  cities,  and  with 
it  republican  equality,  gained  ground,  those  differences  in 
the  dwellings  disappeared  of  themselves ;  and  every  thing 
which  we  read  respecting  private  houses  in  every  subsequent 
age,  confirms  us  in  the  idea,  that  they  could  make  no  preten- 
sions to  elegance  of  construction.^  It  would  be  difficult  to 
produce  a  single  example  of  such  a  building.  But  we  find 
express  evidence  to  the  contrary.  Athens  was  by  no  means 
a  fine  city  like  some  of  our  modern  ones,  in  which  there  are 

'  It  follows  of  course,  that  the  testimony  of  writers  of  the  Macedonian,  or 
the  Roman  age,  are  not  here  taken  into  consideration,  since  we  are  not  treat- 
ing of  those  times. 

Q  2 


I 


I 


I 
I 


IM 


f^ 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.    XV. 


THE  ARTS  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


229 


whole  streets  of  palaces  occupied  as  the  dwellings  of  private 
persons.  A  stranger  could  have  been  in  Athens  without 
imagining  himself  to  be  in  the  city  which  contained  the 
greatest  masterpieces  of  architecture.  The  splendour  of  the 
city  was  not  perceived  till  the  public  squares  and  the  Acro- 
polis were  approached.^  The  small  dwellings  of  Themisto- 
cles  and  of  Aristides  were  long  pointed  out ;  and  the  build- 
ing of  large  houses  was  regarded  as  a  proof  of  pride.  ^  But 
when  luxury  increased,  the  houses  were  built  on  a  larger 
scale ;  several  chambers  for  the  accommodation  of  strangers 
and  for  other  purposes  were  built  round  the  court,  which 
commonly  formed  the  centre  ;  but  all  this  might  take  place, 
and  yet  the  building  could  lay  no  claims  to  beauty.  If  a 
town,  which  was,  it  is  true,  but  a  provincial  town,  may  be 
cited  to  corroborate  this,  we  have  one  still  before  our  eyes. 
A  walk  through  the  excavated  streets  of  Pompeii  will  be 
sufficient  to  establish  our  remark.  Where  the  pomp  and 
splendour  of  the  public  edifices  were  so  great  as  among 
the  Greeks,  it  was  not  possible  for  private  buildings  to 
rival  them. 

Architecture,  as  applied  to  public  purposes,  began  with 
the  construction  of  temples;  and  till  the  time  of  the  Persian 
wars,  or  just  before,  we  hear  of  no  other  considerable  public 
edifices.  The  number  of  temples  remarkable  for  their  archi- 
tecture, was  till  that  time  a  limited  one  ;  although,  in  the 
age  just  preceding  the  war  with  Persia,  this  art  had  already 
produced  some  of  its  first  works  among  the  Greeks.  In 
Greece  itself  the  temple  of  Delphi  was  the  most  celebrated, 
after  it  had  been  rebuilt  by  the  Alcmaeonidse.^  There  was  also 
the  temple  of  Apollo  in  Delos.  But  it  was  about  this  time, 
that  the  invention  of  the  Ionic  order  by  the  Asiatic  Greeks 
in  addition  to  the  Doric,  which  had  been  used  till  then,  con- 
stituted a  new  epoch  in  the  history  of  architecture.  The 
splendid  temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus,  erected  by  the  joint 
exertions  of  the  cities  and  princes  of  Grecian  Asia,  was  the 
first  building  in  this  new  style.*  About  the  same  time  Po- 
lycrates  built  the  temple  of  Juno  in  Samos.     The  temples 

'  Dicaearchiis  de  Statu  Graeciae,  cap.  8.  Huds. 

^  Demosthenes  reproaches  the  wealthy  Midias  with  his  large  house  at  Eleu- 
sis,  which  intercepted  the  light  of  others.  Op.  i.  p.  565.        »  Herod,  v.  62. 

*  See  the  instructive  disquisition  ;  Der  Tempel  der  Diana  zu  Eohesus.  von 
A.  Hirt.     Berlin,  1809. 


which  afterwards  formed  the  glory  of  Greece,  those  of  Athens 
on  the  Acropolis  and  elsewhere,  were  all  erected  after  the 
Persian  war.  So  too  was  the  temple  of  Jupiter  at  Olympia. 
As  to  the  temples  in  Lower  Italy  and  Sicily,  we  can  fix  the 
epoch  in  which,  if  not  all,  yet  the  largest  and  most  splendid 
of  them,  the  chief  temples  of  Agrigentum,  were  erected ; 
and  that  epoch  is  also  subsequent  to  the  Persian  war.^  And 
if  those  of  the  ancient  Doric  order,  at  Psestum  and  Segestus, 
belong  to  an  earlier  period,  they  cannot  to  one  much  earlier ; 
as  these  cities  themselves  were  founded  so  much  later  than 
those  in  Asia  Minor.  Just  before  and  after  the  Persian  war, 
arose  that  prodigious  emulation  of  the  cities,  to  make  them- 
selves famous  for  their  temples;  and  this  produced  those  mas- 
terpieces of  architecture. 

The  other  principal  kinds  of  public  buildings,  which  were 
conspicuous  for  their  splendour,  were  the  theatres,  the  places 
for  musical  exhibitions,  the  porticos,  and  the  gymnasia.  Of 
the  theatres  it  has  already  been  observed,  that  they  were 
erected  subsequently  to  the  Persian  wars.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  halls  for  music.  The  porticos,  those  favourite  places 
of  resort  to  a  people  who  lived  so  much  in  public,  belonged 
in  part  to  the  temples,^  and  in  part  surrounded  the  public 
squares.  Of  those  in  Athens,  which  by  their  works  of  art 
eventually  eclipsed  the  rest,  we  know  that  they  were  not 
built  till  after  the  victory  over  the  barbarians.  Of  all  the 
public  edifices,  the  gymnasia  are  those  respecting  which  we 
have  the  fewest  accounts.^  They  were  probably  erected  at 
a  distance  in  the  rear  of  the  temples ;  though  many  of  them 
were  distinguished  by  excellent  works  of  art. 

This  line  of  division,  carefully  drawn  between  domestic 
and  public  architecture  by  the  Greeks,  who  regarded  only 
the  latter  as  possessing  the  rank  of  one  of  the  fine  arts,  gives 
a  new  proof  of  their  correct  views  of  things.  In  buildings 
destined  for  dwellings,  necessity  and  the  art  are  in  constant 
opposition.  The  latter  desires  in  its  works  to  execute  some 
grand  idea  independent  of  the  common  wants  of  life  ;  but 

*  A  more  accurate  enumeration  of  the  chief  temples  of  the  Greeks,  and  the 
periods  in  which  they  were  built,  is  to  be  found  in  SteigUtz,  Geschichte  der 
iaukunst  der  Alten.    Leipzig,  1792. 

*  As,  e.  g.,  the  \eaxv  at  Olympia,  respecting  which  Bottiger  in  his  Geschichte 
der  Mahlerey,  B.  i.  s.  296,  etc.,  has  given  us  a  learned  essay. 

*  On  those  at  Athens,  consult  Stieglitz  in  loc.  cit.  p.  220. 


\ 


I 


iti: 


230 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XV. 


THE  ARTS  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


231 


a  dwelling  is  intended  to  meet  those  very  wants,  and  is  in 
no  respect  founded  on  an  idea  connected  with  beauty.  The 
temples  are  dwellings  also,  but  the  dwelHngs  of  the  gods; 
and  as  these  have  no  wants  in  their  places  of  abode,  the  art 
finds  here  no  obstacle  to  its  inventions. 

The  plastic  art^  and  painting  bore  to  each  other,  among 
the  Greeks,  the  opposite  relation  to  that  which  they  have 
borne  in  modern  times.  The  first  was  the  most  cultivated  ; 
and  though  the  latter  attained  the  rank  of  an  independent 
art,  it  never  was  able  to  gain  the  superiority.  It  is  not  for 
us  here  to  explain  the  causes  of  this  ;  we  need  only  mention 
one,  which  to  us  is  the  most  interesting.  The  more  public 
the  arts  are  among  any  people,  the  more  naturally  will  the 
plastic  art  surpass  that  of  painting.  The  works  of  both  may 
be  public,  and  were  so  among  the  Greeks,  but  those  of  the 
former  are  far  better  suited  for  public  monuments  than 
those  of  the  latter.  The  works  of  painting  find  their  place 
only  on  walls ;  those  of  the  plastic  art,  existing  entirely  by 
themselves,  wherever  there  is  room  for  them. 

The  works  of  the  plastic  art,  statues  and  busts,  were,  in 
the  times  of  which  we  speak,  (and  among  the  Greeks,  with 
a  few  limitations,  even  in  subsequent  times,)  only  pubHc 
works,  that  is,  designed  to  be  set  up,  not  in  private  dwell- 
ings, but  in  public  places,  temples,  halls,  market-places, 
gymnasia,  and  theatres.  I  know  of  no  one  instance  of  a 
statue  that  belonged  to  a  private  man ;  and  if  there  exists 
any  example,  it  is  an  exception  which  confirms  the  general 
rule.2  It  may  be  said,  that  it  is  only  accidental  that  we 
know  of  no  such  instances.  But  if  any  taste  of  that  kind 
had  prevailed  at  Athens,  we  should  find  traces  of  it  in  the 
comedians  and  orators.  If  these  are  consulted  in  vain  for 
such  indications,  we  are  justified  in  concluding  that  no  such 
private  tastes  existed. 

Phidias  and  his  successors,  till  the  Macedonian  age,  did 
not  therefore  labour  to  supply  with  their  works  the  houses 
and  collections  of  individuals.     This  by  no  means  implies, 

'  The  phrase  plastic  art  is  used,  because  there  is  no  other  which  embraces 
at  once  the  works  of  stone  and  oif  bronze. 

2  Or  can  the  anecdote  be  cited,  which  Pausanias  relates,  p.  i.  46,  of  the 
cunning  of  Phryne  to  gain  possession  of  the  god  of  love  made  by  her  lover 
Praxiteles  ?  Even  if  it  be  true,  the  fact  is  in  our  favour ;  for  she  consecrated 
it  immediately  as  a  pubhc  work  of  art  in  Thespiae,  Athen.  p.  591 ;  in  which 
city  alone  it  was  from  that  time  to  be  seen.    Cic.  in  Ver.  ii.  iv.  2. 


that  they  did  not  receive  applications  from  private  persons. 
If  they  had  not,  the  incredible  multitude  of  statues,  which 
we  have  already  mentioned,  could  never  have  been  made.^ 
This  subject  is  so  important,  that  it  demands  to  be  treated 
of  more  at  large. 

The  great  masters  were  principally  employed  for  the 
cities.  These,  or  the  men  who  were  at  their  head,  (as  the 
example  of  Pericles  informs  us,)  bespoke  works  of  art,  or 
bought  them  ready  made,  to  ornament  the  city  and  the 
public  buildings.  We  have  distinct  evidence,  that  the  great 
masterpieces  of  Phidias,  Praxiteles,  and  Lysippus,  owed 
their  origin  to  this.  Thus  were  produced  the  Jupiter  at 
Olympia,  the  Minerva  Polias  at  Athens,  by  the  first ;  the 
Venus  at  Cnidus,  as  well  as  at  Cos,  by  the  second ;  the 
Colossus  of  Rhodes,  by  the  third.  Yet  numerous  as  were 
the  applications  of  cities,  the  immense  multitude  of  statues 
could  not  be  accounted  for,  unless  the  piety  and  the  vanity 
of  individuals  had  come  to  their  assistance. 

The  first  assisted  by  the  votive  offerings ;  of  which  all 
the  celebrated  temples  were  full.  These  were  by  no  means 
always  works  of  art,  but  quite  as  often  mere  costly  presents. 
Yet  the  collections  of  statues  and  pictures  which  belonged 
to  those  temples,  consisted,  for  the  most  part,  of  votive 
offerings.*^  But  these  were  as  often  the  tribute  of  gratitude 
from  whole  cities,  as  from  individuals.^ 

The  vanity  of  individuals  contributed  to  the  same  end,  by 
the  custom  of  erecting  statues,  commonly  of  bronze,  to  the 
victors  in  the  games.*  When  we  remember  the  multitude 
of  these  games  in  Greece,  the  number  of  statues  will  be- 
come intelligible ;  especially  of  those  of  bronze,  of  which 

•  The  infinite  wealth  of  Greece  in  treasures  of  this  kind,  has  been  so  clearly 
exhibited  in  a  late  discourse  of  Jacobs,  that  it  has  now  become  easy  to  form 
a  distinct  idea  of  them.  Jacobs,  Uber  den  Reichthum  Griechenlands  an 
plastischen  Kunstwerken  und  die  Ursachen  desselben. 

2  Not  to  mention  Olympia  and  Delphi  again,  we  refer  to  the  temple  of 
Juno  in  Samos,  Strab.  L,  xiv.  p.  438,  of  Bacchus  at  Athens,  Pans.  i.  20.  The 
temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus  was  so  rich  in  works  of  art,  that  according  to 
Plin.  xxxvi.  14,  a  description  of  them  would  have  filled  several  volumes. 

^  The  temples  received  such  presents  not  only  during  the  lifetime  of  the 
donors,  but  as  legacies.  A  remarkable  instance  of  this  is  found  in  the  will  of 
Conon,  who  left  5000  pieces  of  gold  {(rrarripig)  for  that  purpose.     Lys.  Or. 

Gr.  V.  p.  639. 

*  See  the  passage  in  Pliny,  xxxiv.  9.  His  remark  that  a  statue  was  erected 
in  honour  of  every  victor  at  Olympia,  seems  hardly  credible.  Cf.  Pans, 
vi.  p.  452. 


It 


I 


I 

I 


I 


2S2 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XV. 


THE  ARTS  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


23S 


m  many  instances  more  than  one  cast  was  made ;  as  the 
native  cities  of  the  victors  would  hardly  fail  in  this  manner 
to  appropriate  to  themselves  the  fame  of  their  citizens, 
which  formed  so  much  a  subject  of  pride. 

Painting,  from  its  very  nature,  seems  to  have  been  more 
designed  for  private  use.  Yet  in  the  age  of  Pericles,  when 
the  great  masters  in  this  art  appeared  in  Athens,  it  was 
hardly  less  pubhcly  applied  than  the  art  of  sculpture.  It 
was  in  the  public  porticos  and  temples,  that  those  masters, 
Polygnotus,  Micon,  and  others,  exhibited  the  productions 
of  their  genius.'  No  trace  is  to  be  found  of  celebrated 
private  pictures  in  those  times.  ^ 

Yet  portrait  painting  seems  peculiarly  to  belong  to  pri- 
vate life.  This  branch  of  the  art  was  certainly  cultivated 
among  the  Greeks  ;  but  not  till  the  Macedonian  age.  The 
likenesses  of  celebrated  men  were  placed  in  the  pictures 
which  commemorated  their  actions ;  as  that  of  Miltiades  in 
the  painting  of  the  battle  in  the  Poecile,  or  pictured  hall  in 
Athens ;  or  the  artists  found  a  place  for  themselves  or  their 
mistresses  in  such  public  works.  ^  But,  properly  speaking, 
portrait  painting,  as  such,  did  not  flourish  till  the  times 
of  Philip  and  Alexander ;  and  was  first  practised  in  the 
school  of  Apelles.  *  When  powerful  princes  arose,  curiosity 
or  flattery  desired  to  possess  their  likeness;  the  artists  were 
most  sure  of  receiving  compensation  for  such  labours ;  and 
private  statues  as  well  as  pictures  began  to  grow  common  ; 
although  in  most  cases  something  of  ideal  beauty  was  added 
to  the  resemblance.  ^ 

*  See  Bottiger.  Ideen  zur  Arehaeologie  der  Mahlerey.  B.  i.  s.  274,  etc. 
It  IS  true,  Andocides  reproached  Alcibiades,  in  his  oration  against  him, 
of  having  shut  up  a  painter,  who  was  painting  his  house  ;  Or.  Gr.  iv.  p.  119. 
tint  this  was  not  the  way  to  obtain  a  fine  specimen  of  the  art.  Allusion  is 
tnere  made  to  the  painting  of  the  whole  house,  not  of  an  isolated  work  of  art; 
and  we  are  not  disposed  to  deny,  that  in  the  times  of  Alcibiades,  it  was  usual 
to  decorate  the  walls  with  paintings.  On  the  contrary,  this  was  then  very 
common ;  for  the  very  painter  Archagathus  gives  as  his  excuse,  that  he  had 
ttl^f  f  "tracted  to  work  for  several  others.  But  these  common  paintings 
are  not  to  be  compared  with  those  in  the  temples  and  porticos  j  which,  Is 

vnw^         ^  '  '       "  '•  ^^^'  "^^'^  P^""^^^'  ^^^  ^^  ^^«  walls,  but 

fi.Zj'^LT^^'-  ^'  ^"J?^!''^^''^^  }^^  beautiful  Elpinice,  the  daughter  of  Mil- 
tiades, as  Laodice.     Plut.  in.  p.  178.  ^ 

*  This  appears  from  the  accounts  in  Phn.  xxxv.  xxxvi   12  <S:c 
o.    ^^^^^.^^"lation;  perhaps  a  more  correct  statement  of  these  remarks,  is 
expected  by  every  fnend  of  the  arts  of  antiquity  in  the  continuation  of  Bat- 
tiger's  Ideen  zur  Geschichte  der  Mahlerey.    That  in  this  period  busts  of  in- 


We  have  ventured  directly  to  assert,  that  the  arts  in  their 
flourishing  period  belonged  exclusively  to  public  life ;  and 
were  not,  according  to  the  general  opinion,  which  seems  to 
have  been  silently  adopted,  divided  between  that  and  pri- 
vate life.  Be  it  remembered,  this  is  to  be  understood  only 
of  works  of  art,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  expression  ;  that 
is,  of  those  which  had  no  other  object  but  to  be  works  of 
art ;  of  statues,  therefore,  and  pictures ;  not  of  all  kinds  of 
sculpture  and  painting.  That  the  arts  connected  with  pri- 
vate wants  were  applied  to  objects  of  domestic  life,  to  arti- 
cles of  household  ftirniture,  to  candelabra,  vases,  tapestry, 
and  garments,  will  be  denied  by  no  one,  who  is  acquainted 
with  antiquity. 

It  was  not  till  a  Lucullus,  a  Verres,  and  others  among  the 
Romans,  had  gratified  their  taste  as  amateurs,  that  the  arts 
were  introduced  into  private  life ;  and  yet  even  in  Rome  an 
Agrippa  could  propose  to  restore  to  the  public  all  the  trea- 
sures of  the  arts,  which  lay  buried  in  the  villas.^  We  should 
not  therefore  be  astonished,  if  under  such  circumstances  the 
ancient  destination  of  arts  among  the  Greeks  should  have 
been  changed,  and  they  should  have  so  far  degenerated  as 
to  become  the  means  of  gratifying  the  luxury  of  individuals. 
And  yet  this  never  took  place.  This  can  be  proved  as  well 
of  the  mother  country,  as  of  the  richest  of  the  colonies. 

Pausanias,  in  the  second  century  after  the  Christian  era, 
travelled  through  all  Greece,  and  saw  and  described  all  the 
works  of  art  which  existed  there.  And  yet  I  know  of  no 
one  instance  in  all  Pausanias  of  a  work  of  art  belonging  to 
a  private  man  ;  much  less  of  whole  collections.  Every  thing 
was  in  his  day,  as  before,  public  in  the  temples,  porticos,  and 
squares.  If  private  persons  had  possessed  works  of  art,  who 
would  have  prevented  his  describing  them  ? 

Verres  plundered  Sicily  of  its  treasures  in  the  arts,  wher- 
ever he  could  find  them  ;  and  his  accusers  will  hardly  be 
suspected  of  having  concealed  any  thing.  But  in  this  ac- 
cusation, with  one  single  exception,-  none  but  public  works 

dividuals  became  for  the  same  reason  so  much  more  numerous,  has  been  illus- 
trated by  the  same  scholar  in  his  Andeutungen,  s.  183,  etc. 

'  Plin.  xxxv.  cap.  ix. 

'  Namely,  the  four  statues  which  he  took  from  Heius.  Cic.  in  Verrem  ii. 
IV.  2.  Yet  they  stood  in  a  chapel  (sacrarium),  and  were  therefore  in  a  cer- 
tain measure  pubUc.    The  name  of  Heius  seems,  however,  to  betray  that  the 


i  i 


\i 


234 


ANCIENT   GREECE. 


[chap.  XV. 


THE  ARTS  IN  CONNEXION  WITH  THE  STATE. 


235 


of  art  are  mentioned.  What  shall  we  infer  from  this,  but 
that  no  considerable  productions  of  the  fine  arts  were  pos- 
sessed by  private  persons  in  Sicily  ? 

So  deeply  therefore  was  the  idea  fixed  among  the  Greeks, 
that  the  works  of  the  artists  were  public,  that  it  could  not 
be  eradicated  even  by  the  profanations  of  the  Romans.  And 
this  is  the  chief  cause  of  their  flourishing.  They  thus  fulfilled 
their  destiny ;  belonging,  not  to  individuals,  but  to  cultivated 
humanity.  They  should  constitute  a  common  property. 
Even  in  our  times,  when  individuals  are  permitted  to  possess 
them,  censure  is  incurred  if  others  are  not  allowed  to  enjoy 
them.  But  even  where  this  privilege  is  conceded,  it  is  not 
a  matter  of  indifference,  whether  an  individual  or  the  nation 
is  the  possessor.  The  respect  shown  to  the  arts  by  the  na- 
tion in  possessing  their  productions,  confers  a  higher  value 
on  their  labours.  How  much  more  honoured  does  the  artist 
feel,  how  much  more  freely  does  he  breathe,  when  he  knows 
that  he  is  exerting  himself  for  a  nation,  which  will  esteem 
its  glory  increased  by  his  works,  instead  of  toiling  for  the 
money  and  the  caprices  of  individuals  ! 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  arts  in  Greece.  When 
emulation  arose  among  the  cities  to  be  distinguished  by  pos- 
sessing works  of  art,  a  field  was  opened  for  a  Phidias  and 
Polygnotus,  for  a  Praxiteles  and  Parrhasius.  They  were 
better  rewarded  by  glory  than  by  money ;  some  of  them 
never  worked  for  pay.^  Need  we  then  add  any  further  re- 
marks to  explain  why  the  fine  arts  declined  with  liberty? 
Philip  and  Alexander  still  saw  a  Lysippus  and  an  Apelles; 
but  with  them  ends  the  series  of  creative  minds,  such  as  no 
other  nation  has  ever  produced. 

But  the  taste  of  the  nation  for  the  arts  and  their  produc- 

family  was  not  of  Grecian  origin.  But  what  does  one  such  exception,  and  in 
such  an  age,  prove  respecting  an  earlier  period  ? 

*  Polygnotus  painted  the  Pcecile  for  nothing ;  Zeuxis,  in  the  last  part  of  his 
life,  would  receive  no  pay  for  his  pictures,  but  gave  them  away.  Phn.  xxxv. 
36.  Thus  a  partial  answer  is  given  to  the  question,  how  the  cities  could  sup- 
port the  great  expense  for  works  of  art.  Besides,  in  Greece  as  in  Italy,  the 
works  of  the  great  masters  did  not  become  dear  till  after  their  death.  The 
little  which  we  know  of  their  personal  condition  and  circumstances,  represents 
them  for  the  most  part  as  men  of  fine  feelings  and  good  fellowship,  who,  like 
the  divine  Raphael  and  Correggio,  in  the  moments  sacred  to  mental  exertion, 
raised  themselves  above  human  nature,  but  otherwise  enjoyed  life  without 
troubling  themselves  much  about  money.  Phidias  for  all  his  masterpieces 
did  not  receive  a  third  part  as  much  as  Gorgias  for  his  declamations. 


tions,  did  not  end  with  those  artists.  They  had  taken  too 
good  care  to  perpetuate  that  fondness.  When  the  Grecians 
had  lost  almost  every  thing  else,  they  were  still  proud  of 
their  works  of  art.  This  excited  even  in  the  Romans  re- 
spect and  admiration.  "  These  works  of  art,  these  statues, 
these  pictures,"  says  Cicero,^  "  delight  the  Greeks  beyond 
every  thing.  From  their  complaints^  you  may  learn,  that 
that  is  most  bitter  to  them,  which  to  us  appears  perhaps  tri- 
vial and  easy  to  be  borne.  Of  all  acts  of  oppression  and  in- 
justice, which  foreigners  and  allies  in  these  times  have  been 
obliged  to  endure,  nothing  has  been  more  hard  for  the  Gre- 
cians to  bear,  than  this  plundering  of  their  temples  and  cities ! " 
We  have  thus  far  endeavoured  to  consider  Greece  from 
all  the  points,  in  which  she  made  herself  glorious  as  a  nation. 
Who  is  it,  we  may  finally  ask,  that  conferred  upon  her  im- 
mortality ?  Was  it  her  generals  and  men  of  power  alone ; 
or  was  it  equally  her  sages,  her  poets,  and  her  artists  ?  The 
voice  of  ages  has  decided ;  and  posterity  justly  places  the 
images  of  these  heroes  of  peace  by  the  side  of  those  of 
warriors  and  kings.^ 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CAUSES  OF  THE  FALL  OF  GREECE. 

The  melancholy  task  of  explaining  the  causes  which  led  to 
the  fall  of  Greece,  has  been  facilitated  by  the  preceding  in- 
vestigations. Most  of  them  will  occur  to  the  reader ;  we 
have  only  to  illustrate  them  somewhat  more  at  large,  and 
arrange  them  in  a  manner  to  admit  of  being  distinctly  com- 
prehended at  a  single  view.* 

If  the  constitutions  of  the  individual  Grecian  states  were 
defective,  the  constitution  of  the  whole  Grecian  system  was 

'  Cicero  in  Verrem,  ii.  iv.  59.  '  Of  the  robberies  of  Verres. 

'  See  Visconti,  Iconographie  ancienne.    Paris,  1811. 

*  See  Drumann's  carefully  written  History  of  the  DecUne  of  the  Grecian 
States.  Berlin,  1815.  To  have  occasioned  such  works  is  the  highest  pleasure 
for  the  author.  So  too  in  reference  to  the  thirteenth  chapter  I  may  cite, 
Bekker's  Demosthenes  as  a  Statesman  and  Orator.  2  vols.  1815.  The  best 
historical  and  critical  introduction  to  the  study  of  Demosthenes. 


i 
I 


1 


286 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


[chap.   XVI. 


CAUSES  OF  THE  FALL  OF  GREECE. 


g37 


still  more  so.  Though  geographically  united,  they  cannot 
be  said  to  have  formed  one  political  system.  A  lasting  union 
was  never  established  between  the  Grecian  states ;  and  a 
transitory  and  very  imperfect  one  was  effected  only  in  times 
of  danger,  as  in  the  Persian  wars. 

But  even  this  imperfect  union  was  productive  of  important 
results.  The  league  which  was  then  established,  produced 
the  idea  of  the  supremacy  of  an  individual  state.  It  has  al- 
ready been  shown,  in  what  manner  Athens  managed  to  ac- 
quire this  rank,  and  in  what  manner  that  city  turned  it  to 
advantage ;  but  we  have  also  shown,  that  a  partial  supremacy 
alone  existed,  embracing  only  the  seaports  and  the  islands, 
and  therefore  necessarily  resting  for  its  support  on  the  do- 
minion of  the  seas  on  each  side  of  Greece,  and  consequently 
on  a  navy. 

This  was  a  result  of  the  political  relations  and  the  nature 
of  the  league.  But  the  consciousness  of  superiority  excited 
those  who  were  possessed  of  it  to  abuse  it ;  and  the  allies 
began  to  be  oppressed.  Athens,  having  once  established  its 
greatness  on  this  supremacy,  would  not  renounce  it  when 
the  ancient  motives  had  ceased  to  operate  after  the  peace 
with  the  Persians.  Individual  states  attempted  to  reclaim 
by  force  the  independence,  which  was  not  voluntarily  con- 
ceded to  them.  This  led  to  wars  with  them  ;  and  hence 
the  dominion  of  the  sea  was  followed  by  all  the  other  evils, 
of  which  even  Isocrates  complains.^ 

The  chief  reason  of  this  internal  division  did  not  lie 
merely  in  vacillating  political  relations,  but  more  deeply  in 
the  difference  of  tribes.  There  was  a  gulf  between  the  Do- 
rian and  Ionian,  which  never  could  be  filled  up ;  a  voluntary 
uFiion  of  the  two  for  any  length  of  time  was  impossible. 
Several  causes  may  be  mentioned,  as  having  contributed  to 
render  this  division  incurable.  The  tribes  were  divided 
geographically.  In  the  mother  country,  the  Dorian  had  the 
ascendency  in  the  Peloponnesus,  the  Ionian  in  Attica, 
Euboea,  and  many  of  the  islands.  Their  dialects  were  dif- 
ferent ;  a  few  words  were  sufficient  to  show  to  which  tribe 
a  man  belonged.  The  difference  in  manners  was  hardly  less 
considerable,  especially  with  relation  to  the  female  sex,  which 
auiong  the  Dorians  participated  in  public  life ;  while  amongst 

'  Isocrat.  de  Pace,  Op.  p.  176. 


the  lonians  it  was  limited  to  the  women's  apartments  within 
the  houses.  And  the  common  people  were  very  much  in- 
fluenced by  the  circumstance,  that  the  festivals  celebrated 
by  the  two  were  not  the  same. 

But  the  division  was  made  politically  incurable  by  the 
circumstance,  that  Sparta  was,  or  at  least  desired  to  be,  con- 
sidered the  head  of  the  whole  Doric  tribe.  This  state,  both 
in  its  public  and  private  constitution,  was  in  almost  every 
respect  the  opposite  of  Athens.  As  the  laws  of  Lycurgus 
alone  were  valid  in  it,  the  other  Dorian  cities  did  by  no 
means  resemble  it ;  but  as  it  was  ambitious  of  being  their 
head,  its  influence  prevailed,  at  least  in  the  mother  country. 
But  that  influence  was  often  extended  to  the  colonies ;  and 
though  the  Persian  authority  may  have  repressed  the  hatred 
of  the  tribes  in  Asia  Minor,  it  continued  with  the  greatest 
acrimony  in  Sicily.  In  the  war  of  the  Syracusans  against 
the  Leontini,  the  Dorian  cities  were  on  the  side  of  the  former; 
the  Ionian  on  that  of  the  latter ;  and  the  cities  of  Lower 
Italy  in  their  choice  of  sides  were  influenced  by  the  same 
circumstance.^ 

This  hatred,  preserved  and  inflamed  by  the  ambition, 
common  to  both,  of  obtaining  the  supremacy  over  Greece, 
was  finally  followed  by  that  great  civil  war,  which  we  are 
accustomed  to  call  the  Peloponnesian.  Of  nearly  equal 
duration,  it  was  to  Greece  what  the  thirty  years'  war  was  to 
Germany;^  without  having  been  terminated  by  a  similar 
peace.  As  it  was  a  revolutionary  war  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
expression,  it  had  all  the  consequences  attendant  on  such  a 
war.  The  spirit  of  faction  was  enabled  to  strike  such  deep 
root,  that  it  never  more  could  be  eradicated  ;  and  the  abuse 
which  Sparta  made  of  her  forced  supremacy,  was  fitted  to 
supply  it  with  continual  nourishment.  Who  has  described 
this  with  more  truth  or  accuracy  than  Thucydides  ?  *'  By 
this  war,"  says  he,^  "  all  Hellas  was  set  in  motion ;  for  on 
all  sides  dissensions  prevailed  between  the  popular  party 
and  the  nobles.  The  former  desired  to  invite  the  Athe- 
nians; the  latter,  the  Lacedemonians.  The  cities  were 
shaken  by  sedition  ;  and  where  this  broke  out  at  a  less  early 

*  Thucyd.  iii.  86.  «  It  lasted  from  the  year  431  till  the  year  404, 

when  it  was  terminated  by  the  taking  of  Athens. 

'  Thucyd.  iii.  82.  We  have  selected  only  a  few  remarks  from  a  passage 
written  for  all  succeeding  centuries. 


I 

I 


itss 


ANCIENT  GREECE.. 


[chap.   XVI. 


period,  greater  excesses  were  attempted  than  any  which 
lia  !  elsewhere   taken   place.      Even   the   significations  of 
words  were  changed.    Mad  rashness  was  called  disinterested 
courage ;    prudent  delay,  timidity.    Whoever  was  violent 
was  held  worthy  of  confidence  ;  whoever  opposed  violence 
was  suspected.    The  crafty  was  called  intelligent ;  the  more 
crafty,  still  more  intelligent.    In  short,  praise  was  given  to 
him  who  anticipated  another  in  injustice ;  and  to  him  who 
encouraged  to  crime  one  who  himself  had  never  thoup-ht 

Ot  it. 

From  the  words  of  the  historian,  the  effect  of  these  re- 
volutions on  morals  is  apparent ;  and  yet  no  states  rested 
so  much  oil  morals  as  the  Grecian.  For  were  they  not 
coTnmiinities  which  governed  themselves  ?  Did  not  the  laws 
enter  most  deeply  into  private  life  ?  and  was  not  anarchy  a 
necessary  consequence  of  the  moral  corruption  ?  This  was 
soon  felt  in  Athens.  Throughout  the  whole  of  Aristophanes, 
we  see  the  contrast  between  the  better  times  that  were  gone 
by,  and  the  new,  in  all  parts  of  public  and  domestic  life ;  in 
poetry,  in  eloquence,  in  education,  in  the  courts  of  justice, 
etc. ;  and  finally  in  a  celebrated  dialogue,  the  ancient  and 
the  modern  customs  are  introduced,  disputing  upon  the 
stage.'  And  who  can  read  the  orators  without  being  as- 
tonished at  the  incredible  corruption  of  morals  ? 

This  leads  us  to  a  kindred  topic,  the  desecration  of  the 
popular  religion.  The  careful  student  of  the  history  of  the 
Grecian  nation  will  observe  this  increase,  as  he  approaches 
the  age  of  Pliilip;  and  though  other  causes  may  have  had 
some  influence,  we  can  only  thus  explain  the  origin  of  a  re- 
ligious war  like  the  Phocian.  The  causes  which  produced 
the  decay  of  the  popular  religion,  may  for  the  most  part  be 
fonnrl  m  a  former  chapter.  It  would  be  useless  to  attempt 
to  deny,  that  the  speculations  of  the  philosophers  had  a 
great  share  in  it ;  although  the  better  part  of  them  were 
strenuuu:.  to  prevent  such  a  result.  Aristophanes  was  cer- 
tainly unjust  in  attributing  such  designs  to  Socrates,  but  he 
was  right  in  attributing  it  to  philosophy  in  general.  The 
(juestion  now  arises:  On  which  side  lies  the  blame?  On 
that  of  philosophy,  or  of  the  popular  religion?  It  is  not 
difficult  to  answer  thi^  question  after  what  we  have  already 

'  The  A6yo£  SiKaioQ  and  dSiKog  in  the  Clouds. 


/ 


CAUSES  OF  THE  FALL  OF  GREECE. 


2S9 


remarked  of  the  latter.  A  nation  with  a  religion  like  that 
of  the  Greeks,  must  either  refrain  from  philosophical  inqui- 
ries, or  learn  from  philosophy  that  its  religion  is  unfounded. 
This  result  cannot  be  urged  against  the  philosophers  as  a 
crime,  but  only  a  want  of  prudence,  of  which  they  were 
guilty  in  promulgating  their  positions.  The  care  taken  by' 
the  best  of  them  in  this  respect,  has  already  been  mentioned ; 
and  that  the  state  was  not  indiflPerent  to  the  practice  of  the 
rest,  is  proved  by  the  punishments  which  were  inflicted  on 
many  of  them.  But  though  the  systems  of  the  philosophers 
were  restricted  to  the  schools,  a  multitude  of  philosophic 
views  were  extended,  which  to  a  certain  degree  were  adopt- 
ed by  the  common  people.  In  Athens,  the  comedians  con- 
tributed to  this  end ;  for  whether  with  or  without  design, 
they  extended  the  doctrines  which  they  ridiculed. 

The  most  melancholy  proof  of  the  decay  of  religious 
feeling,  is  found  in  the  Phocian  war  and  the  manner  in 
which  that  war  was  conducted.  In  the  time  of  Thucydides, 
Delphi  and  its  oracle  were  still  revered ; '  although  the 
Spartans  began  even  then  to  doubt  its  claims  to  confidence.^ 
When  all  the  former  relations  of  the  states  were  dissolved 
by  the  Peloponnesian  war  and  its  consequences,  those  to- 
ward the  gods  were  also  destroyed ;  and  the  crimes  com- 
mitted against  them,  brought  on  their  own  punishment  in  a 
new  civil  war  and  the  downfal  of  liberty.  The  treasures 
stolen  from  Delphi,  with  which  the  war  was  carried  on, 
suddenly  increased  the  mass  of  specie  current  in  Greece  to 
an  unheard  of  degree;  but  increased  in  an  equal  degree 
luxury,  and  the  wants  of  life.^  And  if  any  portion  of  the 
ancient  spirit  remained,  it  was  destroyed  by  the  custom  of 
employing  mercenary  soldiers,  a  custom  which  became 
every  day  more  common,  and  gave  a  deadly  chill  to  valour 
and  patriotism. 

Thus  the  evils  of  which  the  superior  policy  of  a  neigh- 
bour knew  how  to  take  advantage,  were  the  result  of  de- 
fects in  the  political  constitution  ;  in  that  very  constitution, 
but  for  which  the  glorious  fruits  of  Grecian  liberty  never 
could  have  ripened.  But  amidst  all  the  disorder,  and  all  the 
losses,  not  every  thing  perished.  The  national  spirit,  though 

'  Thucyd.  V.  32.  «  Thucyd.  v.  16. 

'  See  a  leading  passage  on  this  topic,  in  A  then.  iv.  p.  231. 


ii 


I 


f^ 


ANCIENT  GREECE. 


[chap.  XVI. 


It  rou!<!  hardiy  have  been  expected,  still  remained,  and  with 
It  the  hope  of  better  times.  Amidst  all  their  wars  with  one 
another,  the  Greeks  never  ceased  to  consider  themselves  as 
one  nation.  The  idea  vi  one  day  assuming  that  character 
nnimotpd  the  best  of  them.  It  is  an  idea  which  is  expressed 
m  almost  every  one  of  the  writings  of  the  pure  Isocrates  -^ 
and  wliicli  he  could  not  survive,  when  after  the  battle  of 
Cheeronea,  the  spirit  of  the  eloquent  old  man  voluntarily 
escaped  from  its  earthly  veil,  beneath  which  it  had  passed  a 
liimdred  years.  Yet  the  echo  of  his  wishes,  his  prayers,  and 
his  instructions  did  not  die  away.  The  last  of  the  Greeks 
had  not  yet  appeared  ;  and  the  times  were  to  come,  when 
Hi  tiie  Achaean  league,  the  splendid  day  of  the  greatness  of 
Hellas  was  to  be  followed  by  a  still  more  splendid  evening. 
So  certain  is  it,  that  a  nation  is  never  deserted  by  destiny, 
so  long  as  it  does  not  desert  itself 

*  See  especially  Panathen.  Op.  235. 


% 


HISTORICAL  TREATISES: 


THE  POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 
OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  AND  PRACTICAL  INFLUENCE 

OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


I 


THE  RISE  AND  GROWTH  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 
INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


I< 


^ 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF 

A.  H.  L.  HEEREN, 

KNIGHT  OF  THB  GUELPHIC  ORDER.  COUNCILLOR  AND  PROFESSOR  OF  HISTORY  ,N  IHE 
*'"**  UNIVERSITY  OF  GOETTINGEN. 


; 


AN  INQUIRY  INTO 


h 


THE  POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF 


THE   REFORMATION, 

BEING  A  PRELIMINARY  ATTEMPT  AT  AN  ANSWER  TO 
THE  QUESTION  PROPOSED  BY  THE  FRENCH  NATIONAL  INSTITUTE. 

WRITTEN  IN  THE  YEAR  1802. 


TO  THE  READER. 

The  following  treatise  was  written  in  answer  to  a  question 
proposed  by  the  National  Institute  of  France,  as  the  subject 
of  a  prize  essay  for  July,  1803,- viz.  "What  has  been  the 
influence  of  the  Reformation  on  the  political  position  of  the 
difi-erent  states  of  Europe,  and  upon  the  diffusion  of  know- 
ledge''    This  question,  in  itself  so  interesting,  attracted  my 
attention  the  more  because  the  whole  course  of  my  studies 
have  been  directed  towards  it.  I  resolved  therefore  to  attempt 
an  answer  to  it ;  but  when  I  had  nearly  finished  the  first 
part,  which  regards  the  political  consequences  of  the  Re- 
formation, I  learned  from  my  late  friend  Von  Villers  that  1 
should  have  him  for  a  competitor.     Upon  this  I  withdrew 
myself,  and  his  essay,  which  proved  the  successful  one,  and 
of  which  several  editions  have  been  published,  is  universally 
known.     In  the  mean  time  I  committed  my  work  to  the 
press,  even  before  the  day  appointed  for  sending  in  the 
essays,  but  confined  it  to  the  political  part  of  the  question. 
The  sheets  were  forwarded  as  soon  as  printed  to  my  triend, 
and  he  has  himself  remarked  in  his  preface,  that  he  made 
use  of  them  in  working  out  this  portion  of  his  subject.  Any 

'  Quelle  a  H&  I'influence  de  la  Reformation  sur  la  situation  politique  des 
differens  Etats  de  I'Europe,  et  sur  le  progris  des  Inmiferes  f 

R  2 


A 


'II 


244 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


service  which  I  may  thus  have  rendered  him,  he  amply  re- 
paid me  four  years  after  by  undertaking  the  translation  of 
my  essay  upon  the  Influence  of  the  Crusades^  which  then 
obtained  the  prize  at  Paris.  I  have  thought  it  right  to  pre- 
face these  remarks ;  partly,  in  order  to  show  the  relation  in 
which  my  essay  stands  to  that  of  my  late  friend  ;  partly,  to 
excube  the  style  of  the  treatise,  which  could  not  from  the 
circnmstances  assume  the  character  of  a  scholastical  and 
learned  dissertation. 

It  does  not  pretend  to  afford  the  learned  historian  any 
thing  new  in  the  detail,  but  aims  at  presenting  a  variety 
and  abundance  of  general  views,  which  appear  to  me  to  be 
far  from  superfluous,  inasmuch  as  a  clearer  light  may  thus 
perhaps  be  thrown  upon  the  history  of  modern  Europe. 


The  great  political  changes  by  which  the  destinies  of  man- 
kind are  permanently  aifected,  and  which  we  are  accustomed 
to  call  by  the  general  name  of  revolutions,  may  be  divided, 
as  regards  their  origin,  into  two  classes.  The  first  includes 
those  which  are  the  work  of  single  individuals,  the  slaves  of 
passion,  v.  ho  have  devoted  their  lives  to  conquest,  and  found- 
ed their  greatness  upon  the  ruins  of  the  states  which  fortune 
has  enabled  them  to  overthrow.  These  may  be  termed 
purely  warlike  revolutions,  as  they  assume  that  character 
fruni  the  first,  and  war  is  their  immediate  aim. 

Sue  li  were  the  exploits  of  Cyrus  and  of  Timur,  and  of  many 
other  celebrated  heroes,  who,  though  at  the  head  of  civilized 
nations,  have  made  conquest  at  once  the  first  and  last  ob- 
ject of  their  career.  Phenomena  of  this  class  may  be  highly 
mterestmg  from  their  results,  but  in  their  origin  they  are 
less  so,  as  they  usually  flow  from  one  source,  and  that  for 
the  most  part  an  unhallowed  one— ambition. 

The  second  class  is  of  a  very  different  character,  and  may 
be  best  expressed  under  the  joint  name  of  moral  and  poli- 
ticaL  as  its  foundation  is  laid  in  the  moral  nature  of  man. 
Under  this  we  range  those  revolutions  which  have  been  pre- 
pared by  popular  ideas,  slowly  spread,  but  finally  become 
prevalent ;  and  which,  by  the  direct  contrast  in  which  they 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


245 


Stood  to  the  existing  order  of  things,  could  not  but  cause 
violent  struggles  and  great  changes  in  their  passage  from 
theory  into  practice.     Like  the  stream  which  loses  itself  m 
the  earth  but  a  short  way  from  its  source,  as  if  to  accumu- 
late its  strength  in  secret,  and  breaks  forth  again  a  great 
river    these  revolutions  arise  at   moments  when  they  are 
least' thought  of,  and  exhibit  signs  of  strength  which  the 
most  accurate  observer  could  not  have  foreseen.     1  hese  dif- 
fer therefore  from  the  former  by  being  in  the  highest  degree 
interesting,  as  well  in  their  origin  as  in  their  consequences. 
Their  creneral  characteristic  is  that  they  are  prepared  long 
beforehand,  and  by  a  process  which  can  hardly  ever  be  dis- 
cerned —They  thus  aff'ord  the  practised  observer  abundant 
employment  from  the  very  first ;  as  it  is  not  easy  to  discover 
their  true  origin,  even  though  the  immediate  cause  of  their 
breaking  out  should  be  evident  to  the  eye.     They  diff^er 
from  the  former  also  in  this,  that  they  seldom  arise  from  one, 
but  usually  from  many  and  different  sources,  and  these,  be- 
coming united,  form  a  torrent  which  finally  bursts  through 
every  bulwark,  and  sweeps  away  whatever  attempts  to  stem 

its  course.  ,,      ,     .  j      j 

In  order  that  ideas  should  become  generally  adopted  and 
effective,  they  must  be  such  as  can  be  readily  appreciated  by 
the  great  mass  of  the  people,  and  of  sufficient  interest  to  in- 
duce action  as  well  as  belief.     Religion  and  politics  are  the 
only  topics  of  this  nature.     Knowledge  in  its  more  difficult 
branches  must  always  be  confined  to  a  limited  number ;  nor 
do  we  ever  read  of  wars  caused  between  different  nations 
by  different  systems  of  philosophy,  although  it  may  have 
chanced  that  some  particular   doctrines,  by  passing  into 
popular  opinions,  have  exercised  an  influence  over  tfieir 
dealings  with  each  other.     On  the  other  hand,  the  ideas  of 
God  and  of  our  country  are  too  deeply  interwoven  witfi  our 
moral  nature  to  allow  of  their  being  entertained  merely  as 
objects  of  reason,  and  not  of  the  affections  also.     In  tact,  tbe 
less  defined  they  are,  the  greater  influence  do  they  appear 
to  exercise ;  and  hence  it  is  that  they  possess  the  power  ot 
acting  like  electricity,  even   upon   the   most  uninformed 
minds,  and  impart  energies  to  them  which  assume  with  ease 
the  character  of  enthusiasm,  or  even  fanaticism. 

Religious  notions,  it  is  true,  do  not  seem  to  have  a  veiy 


\ 


246 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


uear  connexion  with  political,  but,  even  if  the  union  of  the 
state  with  its  acknowledged  forms  of  worship  were  less 
strict,  these  could  seldom  be  overthrown  without  entailing 
the  fall  of  more  than  can  be  originally  foreseen. 

Who  shall  define  the  channel  of  the  torrent  which  has 
burst  Its  bed  ?  or  who  sets  limits  to  the  earthquake  ? 

But  however  awful  these  shocks  may  be,  it  is  by  them 
more  especially  that  the  fortunes  of  our  race  are  deter- 
mined.— The  moral,  like  the  physical  world,  owes  its  purifi- 
cation and  its  maintenance  to  the  storms  which  sweep  over 
it. — But  centuries  and  their  generations  must  pass  away,  be- 
fore the  operation  of  them  is  so  fully  developed  as  to  allow 
the  dim  eye  of  human  intelligence  to  embrace  and  give 
judgment  upon  the  full  extent  of  their  results.  And  when 
this  time  at  length  arrives,  when  the  inquirer  at  last  may 
fairly  enter -upon  his  task,  what  occasion  could  he  select,  on 
w  hich  it  would  be  more  becoming  to  feel  diffident  of  his  own 
powers,  and  to  bear  continually  in  mind  that  his  horizon  is 
at  best  but  of  scanty  extent,  and  that  to  review  the  unlimited 
universe  of  the  history  of  man  belongs  only  to  a  Being  liim- 
self  illimitable  ? 

Since  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire  made  way  for  the 
erection  of  the  states  of  modern  Europe,  this  portion  of  the 
vvuild  lias  Witnessed  three  revolutions  such  as  we  have  de- 
scribed. The  deep  degradation  of  its  inhabitants  during  the 
middle  ages  is  chiefly  attributable  to  the  want,  for  many  cen- 
turies, of  an  impulse  which  might  call  the  minds  of  men, 
and  nut  merely  their  bodies,  into  activity.  Hence  that  over- 
whelming barbarism  which  in  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centu- 
ries threatened  to  extinguish  the  last  gleams  of  civilization, 
till  at  the  close  of  the  latter  the  Crusades  were  set  on  foot, 
and  auakened  the  decaying  spirit  of  mankind  from  the 
slumber  which  threatened  to  be  its  last.  These  expeditions, 
although  fnutless  in  their  immediate  event,  laid  the  found- 
ation of  a  new  order  of  things  in  Europe.  Owing  to  them 
tlie  peasantry  was  freed,  although  neither  quickly  nor  uni- 
versally, fvom  the  bondage  of  the  feudal  law  ;  and  while  the 
young  Muse  of  the  Knighthood  was  gathering  boldness 
to  utter  Its  conceits  in  castle  and  hall,  they  gradually,  by 
the  conimerce  which  they  brought  to  Europe,  were 'the 
means  of  establishing  in  her  towns  that  class  of  free  citi- 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


247 


zens,  on  whose  prosperity  the  future  fate  of  nations  was  to 

depend. 

After  a  lapse  of  four  centuries  Europe  sustained  a  second 
and  still  greater  change  in  the  Reformation.  And  as  this 
agreed  with  the  former  in  the  point  of  their  common  and 
immediate  origin  from  religion,  although  both  were  un- 
doubtedly of  great  political  importance,  it  was  reserved  for 
our  own  age  to  witness  a  third  species  of  revolution,  which, 
springing  immediately  from  political  ideas,  obtained  an  im- 
mediate political  tendency ;  and  which,  when  its  results  are 
fully  developed,  will  perhaps  furnish  the  historian  of  future 
times  with  even  richer  materials  than  either  of  those  which 

have  preceded  it. 

The  National  Institute,  in  requiring  a  development  of  the 
consequences  which  resulted  to  the  political  progress  and 
general  illumination  of  Europe  from  the  Refor«iation,  has 
chosen  a  subject  worthy  of  itself.  It  is  a  proposition  which 
has  never  been  satisfactorily  answered,  but  which  is  now 
ripe  for  discussion.— Near  three  centuries  have  elapsed  since 
that  mighty  change  began  to  operate ;  its  consequences  have 
developed  themselves  in  all  their  principal  features;  the 
clouds  of  prejudice  and  passion,  which  at  first  float  over  an 
age  of  great  revolutions,  and  deny  a  clear  view  to  the  ob- 
server of  the  time,  have  now  been  long  dispersed ;  and  the 
historian  must  be  content  that  his  own  feeble  vision  should 
bear  the  blame,  if  it  cannot  embrace  the  wide  prospect  be- 
fore him. 

The  present  inquiry  is  not  directed  to  the  consequences 
of  the  Reformation,  as  it  affected  the  intelligence  and  civi- 
lization of  mankind— this  subject  is  left  to  others.  We  shall 
simply  investigate  the  political  results  of  that  event  as  they 
affected  Europe— and  these  we  shall  class  under  two  heads : 
the  1st,  comprising  the  changes  in  particular  states.  The 
2nd,  those  which  were  wrought  in  the  social  and  political 

system  of  Europe.  ,         ,       i  u 

In  an  undertaking  of  this  sort  it  is  evident  that  the  author 
must  be  prepared  to  lay  aside  the  prejudices  which  his  edu- 
cation, his  country,  and  his  religion,  throw  in  his  way—that 
he  must  resolve  moreover  not  to  sacrifice  the  truth,  although 
known  and  acknowledged,  to  the  brilliancy  which  invests 
what  is  new  and  paradoxical.— These,  I  say,  are  necessary 


248 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


U9 


and  evident  conditions. — It  is  only  as  to  the  sense  in  which 
the  term  "  Consequences  of  the  Reformation"  may  be  fairly 
used  that  any  observation  need  be  made.  On  this,  how- 
ever, the  full  attention  of  the  reader  is  required,  as  it  must 
necessarily  determine  the  main  features  of  our  inquiry. 

The  consequences  of  every  event  are  partly  immediate, 
partly  mediate, 

Tiju  character  of  immediate  consequences  is  that  they 
must  result  of  themselves  from  the  very  nature  of  a  given 
event,  and  therefore  be  of  the  same  stamp  with  it.  The  im- 
mediate consequences  of  a  religious  revolution  can  be  con- 
cerned only  with  religion ;  and  therefore  as  regards  the  re- 
volution we  are  here  speaking  of,  they  include  nothing  but 
the  changes  in  doctrine  or  worship  of  particular  portions  of 
the  Christian  Church. 

The  mediate  consequences  of  an  event  differ  from  the 
former  in  not  flowing  from  the  essence  of  that  event,  but  in 
being  produced  by  accidental  relations,  connexions,  and 
changes  of  circumstance,  in  such  a  way,  however,  as  that 
without  the  existence  of  that  event  they  would  not  them- 
selves have  existed. 

It  is  at  once  evident  that  the  sphere  of  the  immediate  con- 
sequences of  every  event  must  be  comparatively  much 
smaller  than  that  of  the  mediate.  But  on  this  account  a 
view  which  should  be  confined  only  to  the  former  would  be 
very  partial ;  and  although  it  may  be  urged  that  the  chain 
of  mediate  consequences  is  endless,  and  therefore  incompre- 
hensible by  the  eye,  since  each  operation  gives  an  impulse 
to  another  and  a  new  one,  we  must  remember  that  the  im- 
perfection of  our  nature  imposes  a  limit,  and  by  subjecting 
us  to  tlie  liiraldom  of  time,  restrains  our  view  to  that  which 
is  already  determined. 

Moreover  we  have  a  standard  of  easy  application  by 
which  the  degrees  of  distance  may  be  judged.  Are  all  the 
circles  winch  we  form  by  throwing  a  stone  into  the  water  to 
be  held  uncertainly  defined,  because  those  on  the  verge 
gradually  escape  the  eye? 

The  influence  of  the  Reformation  on  the  politics  and  in- 
telligence of  Europe  belongs  to  the  class  of  mediate  conse- 
quences, and  the  National  Institute,  by  proposing  such  a 
question   hn^  shown  the  extent  over  which  it  is  intended  that 


our  inquiries  should  spread.     It  could  not  escape  the  pro- 
posers of  the  question  that  its  chief  interest  lay  m  this  very 
Doint— that  on  this  very  account  it  must  needs  be  a  propo- 
sition  the  answer  to  which  would  bring  a  special  ray  ot 
hope  to  the  age  in  which  v:e  live      The  distant  results  of 
every  great  revolution  have  deceived  the  expectations  of  the 
actorsl  and  there  is  perhaps  no  higher  gratification  to  he 
historian  than  to  follow  out  the  wonderful  perplexities  oi  the 
thread  of  events  on  which  the  fortunes  of  our  kind  depend. 
Submitting  to  its  guidance  he  wanders  on  as  in  a  labyrinth, 
which,  amidst  rocks  and  precipices,  often  opens  to  his  view  a 
landscape  of  surpassing  beauty ;  and  wrapped  in  wonder  he 
catches  amid  the  storm  of  ages  the  voice  of  Him  who  tells 
us  "  that  His  ways  are  not  our  ways ! 

Lift  up  your  eyes  then,  ye  whom  in  your  turn  Fate  has  ap- 
pointed to  be  the  witnesses,  the  actors,  the  victinis,  of  a  Re- 
volution !  Ye  who  have  lost  a  father,  a  brother  a  friend,  alas ! 
perhaps  your  all !  On  the  funeral  piles  of  the  Inquisi  ion,  on 
The  battle-fields  of  Muhlberg,  of  Nordhngen  and  Lutzen, 
innocent  blood  flowed  as  freely  as  our  own  ^ge  h^«^^^"; '* 
flow  !  and  yet  the  clouds  at  length  dispersed,  and  the  day-star 
shone  down  upon  a  peaceful  and  a  better  world.    The  hori- 
zon clears  up  now  faster  than  then,  and  perhaps  we  ourselves 
may  yet  witness  those  better  times  which  it  was  in  that  case 
the  lot  only  of  later  generations  to  enjoy. 

fTilthough  the  original  tendency  of  the  Reformation  was 
/very  far  from  political,  the  intimate  connexion  ^bch  in 
(thoL  days  subsisted  between  Church  and  State  rendered  it 
Vinavoidable,  that,  as  its  influence  widened,  such  a  tendency 
should  rapidly  be  acquired.  It  is  true  that  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  sixteenth  century  those  relations  were  no  longer 
in  their  full  force,  which  during  the  preceding  period  had  knit 
the  whole  of  Western  Europe  as  it  were  into  one  empire, 
composed  of  a  number  of  princes  whom  the  pope  either 
held  or  claimed  to  hold,  as  vassals  to  the  spiritual  supremacy 
of  his  office.  The  temporal  authority  which  had  been  estab- 
lished by  Gregory  the  Seventh  was  already  broken  down 
not  only  by  thi  disobedience  and  boldness  of  many  of  these 
spiritual  sons  of  the  Church,  but,  and  that  perhaps  in  a  still 
greater  degree,  by  the  errors  of  the  Roman  see  itselt.     A 


t    > 


) 


250 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


schism  of  seventy  years,  (1378—1449),  at  one  period  of  which 
two  popes,  at  another  three,  were  busied  in  excommunicat- 
ing each  other,  had  rendered  the  Christian  world  disaffected, 
and  had  caused  the  assemblage  of  those  general  councils 
which  asserted  the  fatal  doctrine  of  their  authority  even  over 
the  head  of  the  Church.  But  notwithstanding  this,  Church 
and  State  were  far  too  closely  interwoven  throughout  the 
Christian  world,  to  allow  of  any  change  being  wci^ught  in 
the  former  which  should  not  recoil  on  the  latter.  iAlthough 
continual  opposition  was  made  to  the  claims  of  the  pope  to 
be  recognised  as  arbitrator  in  secular  matters,  still  by  the  spi- 
ritual jurisdiction  of  his  office,  and  in  several  other  ways,  he 
exercised  many  most  important  rights,  without  denying  which 
a  Reformation  could  hardly  even  be  imaginedT^  As  soon 
therefore  as  a  measure  of  this  kind  were  set  afoot  and  began 
its  necessary  interference,  the  princes  could  not  remain  un- 
moved— neutrality  was  out  of  the  question — and  they  were 
compelled  to  declare  themselves  either  for  or  against  it.  In 
the  latter  case  they  set  themselves  in  opposition  to  a  party 
within  their  own  dominions,  to  which  oppression  would  un- 
avoidably give  a  pohtical  character ;  in  the  former  they  be- 
came the  direct  adversaries  of  the  pope,  and  in  this,  as  in  the 
other,  the  political  tendency  of  the  Reformation  was  soon 
decided. 

The  moment  at  which  it  assumed  this  form  necessarily 
doubled  its  importance.  When  the  Reformation  broke  out 
there  was  no  longer  any  great  moral  interest  which  could 
influence  politics  and  breathe  into  them  a  spirit  of  life. 
Italy,  it  is  true,  had  been  taught  a  more  refined  policy  by 
the  necessity  of  maintaining  the  balance  among  her  states, 
and  this  had  spread  even  beyond  the  Alps,  but  under  the 
hands  of  Ferdinand  the  Catholic  it  had  assumed  the  form  of 
mere  systematical  deceit.  The  influence  which  the  nations 
of  Europe  had  up  to  that  time  exercised  by  their  represent- 
atives, upon  their  own  affairs,  began  either  to  disappear 
entirely,  or  to  become  weak  and  unimportant.  What  shall 
we  say  of  the  Spanish  Cortes  under  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
and  still  more  under  their  successors  ?  What  of  the  English 
Parliament  under  Henry  the  Eighth  ?  What  of  the  assembly 
of  tlie  States-general  in  France  under  Lewis  the  Twelfth  ? 
All  the  ilireads  of  political  power  were  in  the  hands  of  some 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


251 


few  potentates  who  only  abused  their  trust  by  spmnmg  them 
into  a  web  of  wretched  intrigue  for  the  gratification  of  their 
own  passions.— Whoever  wishes  for  a  proof  of  this,  need 
only  dance  into  the  history  of  what  passed  m  Italy  at  that 
time  r  and  especially  at  the  senseless  league  of  Cambray  and 
its  romantic  consequences.  '  i      ,  i     *u- 

The  nations  of  Europe  looked  on  unmoved  while  this 
o-ame  of  vice  and  folly  was  played  at  their  expense ;  and 
this  apathy  was  seasonably  timed  for  their  own  more  easy 
subjection  to  despotism,  as  it  accorded  with  the  ^creased 
means  of  tyranny  which  the  treasures  of  the  New  World, 
then  first  discovered,  put  at  the  disposal  of  their  masters. 

In  order  to  awaken  Europe  from  this  moral  slumber 
there  was  wanted  a  new  and  mighty  interest  which  should 
exercise  a  common  influence  over  both  people  and  princes ; 
and  in  contemplating  which  the  meaner  spirit  of  cabal,  till 
then  most  honoured,  should  be  forgotten.    Such  an  interest, 
both  as  to  novelty  and  greatness,  the  Reformation  created ; 
and  we  thus  obtain  the  proper  point  of  view  from  which  to 
estimate  its  political  importance.    Instead  of  the  vulgar  im- 
pulses of  selfishness,  Religion  became  the  mainspring  ot 
politics ;    and  we  soon  find  hardly  any  political   interest 
which  was  not  more  or  less  a  religious  interest,  hardly  any 
political  party  which  was  not  more  or  less  a  religious  one, 
nay,  hardly  any  war  which  was  not  in  a  greater  or  less  de- 
orree  a  war  of  religion.     It  matters  not  how  far  philosophers 
may  hold  the  doctrines  for  which  men  struggled  to  be  right 
or  wrong— the  destinies  of  mankind  depended  upon  their 
^cquirinff  an  interest  in  what  was  great  and  exalted ;  and 
that  religion  is  in  practical  eff-ect  both  great  and  exalted, 
even  the  atheist,  who  scorns  it  in  theory,  must  confess.     It 
may  be  that,  with  the  new  interest  which  was  here  awakened, 
a  host  of  prejudices  and  passions,  which  m  partial  instances 
led  to  error,  was  awakened  also.— But  this  hindered  not  the 

progress  of  the  whole  !  -^i      ^ 

To  require  that  the  human  race  should  advance  without 
interruption  to  its  more  perfect  state,  by  the  path  which 
reason  points  out,  is  to  mistake  our  nature,  and  to  torget 
that  we  are  not  creatures  of  pure  reason,  but  of  reason  mix- 
ed and  alloyed  with  passion.  It  is  difficult  for  individual 
man  to  tread  that  path,  but  for  the  crowd,  which  only  ap- 
proaches its  object  by  circuitous  ways,  it  is  impossible. 


I 


252 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


FIRST  PART. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  POLITICAL  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  REFOR- 
MATION  UPON  THE  INTERNAL  RELATIONS  OF  THE  DIFFERENT 
STATES  OF  EUROPE. 

GERMANY. 

It  was  natural  that  the  state  in  which  the  Reformation  com- 
menced should  be  the  first  to  feel  its  consequences ;  but 
besides  this,  the  internal  condition  of  Germany  was  such  as 
to  make  these  consequences  more  violent  here  than  else- 
where. The  adherence  of  several  of  its  princes  to  the  Re- 
formed doctrines  facilitated  the  organization  of  a  powerful 
party,  which  watched  over  their  infancy,  and  prevented 
them  from  being  crushed  or  set  aside,  in  a  manner  which 
would  have  been  impossible  in  any  country  less  divided 
within  itself  It  is  well  known  that  the  elector,  Frederic 
the  Wise,  of  Saxony,  the  ruler  of  the  state  in  which  Luther 
came  forward,  was  the  first  who  did  the  Reformation  this 
service,  although  he  was  soon  followed  by  others.  It  was 
thus  at  once  made  an  aflfair  of  state ;  and  by  being  soon 
after  formally  and  openly  treated  as  such,  and  brought,  in 
1521,  before  the  diet  of  Worms  for  decision,  it  became  so 
highly  important  in  a  political  point  of  view,  that  its  very 
condemnation  could  only  serve  to  make  it  still  more  so. 

At  the  time  of  Luther's  appearance,  Germany,  as  a  state, 
w^as  little  more  than  a  cipher  in  the  political  system  of  Eu- 
rope. ^FuU  of  strength  within,  it  was  yet  unable  to  apply 
its  power. — Its  constitution,  formed  upon  prescription^  was 
scarcely  better  than  a  chaos.  Even  though  the  Golden  Bull 
(1356)  had  sufficiently  determined  the  relations  between  the 
head  of  the  empire  and  the  chief  of  its  princes,  who  could 
say  what  the  mutual  rights  of  the  emperor  and  the  remaining 
states  truly  were  ?  The  degree  of  authority  which  he  should 
possess  was  thus  commonly  dependent  upon  the  character 
cuif]  personal  power  of  the  emperor.  Under  the  long  reign 
of  Frederic  III.,  who  slumbered  away  above  half  a  century 
upuii  tlit  throne,  (1440 — 1492,)  this  authority  was  nearly 
annihilated;    and  under  that  of  Maximilian   I.,   notwith- 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


253 


standing  the  new  institutions,  it  was,  as  regarded  its  own 
interests,  but  little  augmented. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  not  one  of  the  remainmg 
princes  of  Germany  whose  power  was  sufficient  to  command 
respect     They  lived  more  like  patriarchs  than  princes ;  the 
ruler  of  a  country  appeared  to  be  little  more  than  the  chief 
proprietor  in  it.     Moreover,  there  was  scarcely  a  prospect 
that  any  house  would  be  able  to  raise  itself  to  sudden  emi- 
mence     The  undivided  transmission  of  property  was  ob- 
served only  in  the  electoral  states :  in  the  others,  according 
to  custom,  the  lands  of  the  father  were  divided  among  his 
sons ;  and,  as  their  marriages  were  often  blessed  with  even 
too  rich  an  abundance,  it  was  difficult  for  a  single  family  to 
amass  any  great  and  secure  possessions  in  land.    Ihis  weak- 
ness of  individuals  necessarily  rendered  the  power  of  the 
whole  body  inconsiderable.     It  is  true  the  princes  met  at 
the  diets  to  discuss  their  common  interests  ;    but  tredenc 
III  had  not  even  been  at  the  trouble  of  once  attending 
these  meetings  in  person  ;  and  his  son,  whose  numerous 
projects  required  proportionate  funds,  came  for  the  most 
part,  only  to  harass  the  states  for  supplies.    In  fact,  if  the 
impetuous  advance  of  the  hereditary  foes  of  Christendom 
who  had  for  fifty  years  been  securely  settled  m  the  east  ot 
Europe,  had  not  frequently  compelled  the  Germans  to  make 
common  cause  against  them,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason 
why  the  bands  of  the  empire  should  not  have  been  wholly 

'It  was  the  Reformation,  and  the  Reformation  alone  which 
suddenly  breathed  new  life  into  this  decaying  body,  and 
eave  it  the  political  importance  which  it  has  since  possessed. 
Many  of  the  German  princes  soon  declared  m  it^.  favour 
(whether  from  conviction  or  on  other  grounds  it  matte^rs 
not) ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  new  sovereign  of  the 
empire  found  it  in  accordance  with  his  interests  to  condenin 
it     Charles  V.  soon  discovered  that  in  the  advocates  ot  the 
Reformation  he  had  to  deal  with  a  party  which  was  forming 
acrainst  himself;    and  although  his  original  repugnance  to 
the  Protestant  doctrines,  as  they  now  began  to  be  termed, 
may  perhaps  have  been  founded  upon  religious  conviction, 
vet  the  hatred  which  he  entertained  towards  them  soon  be- 
came purely  political.    Charles  V.,  however,  was  not  the 


254 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


255 


^' 


c: 


0^ 


man  to  allow  himself  to  be  blinded  by  passion  ;  it  was  to 
hull  only  the  groundwork  of  a  project  which  soon  occupied 
his  whole  attention,  as  far  as  it  was  directed  to  the  govern- 
ment of  Germany,  and  the  design  of  which  was  to  maintain 
and  increase  the  imperial  power  by  the  suppression  of  the 
party  opposed  to  him.  {^s^soon,  however,  as  this  party  per-" 
ceived  their  danger,  a  closer  alliance,  among  the  Protestant 
princes  and  states,  was  the  natural  consequence^? 
'(^  Thus,  after  the  league  of  Smalcald,  (ISSO^Jboth  parties 
stood,  prepared  for  war,  awaiting  the  contest ;  nor  would 
this  have  been  so  long  delayed,  had  not  the  emperor  been 
engaged  upon  some  other  of  his  numerous  undertakings. 
When,  at  length,  a  lapse  of  sixteen  years  had  brought  mat- 
ters to  the  point  he  wished,  and  he  fairly  took  the  field, 
(1546,)  the  result  showed  that  the  courage  of  his  opponents 
was  not  equalled  by  their  abilities;  while  the  issue  of  the 
battle  of  Miihlberg  (1547)  seemed  to  exceed  even  his  boldest 
hopes.  He  had  scarce,  however,  begun  to  enjoy  the  fruits 
of  his  victory,  when  the  daring  hand  of  a  stripling  tore  from 
his  grey  head  the  laurels  which  a  few  days  sufficed  to  lose, 
but  whicli  it  had  taken  a  life  of  labour  to  collect;  and 
Maurice,  by  the  treaty  of  Passau,(1552,)  dispelled  all  the 
dreams  of  ambition  in  which  Charles  had  so  long  revefled. 

Such,  in  a  few  words,  was  the  progress  of  events  which 
occurred  in  the  German  empire  at  this  momentous  crisis, 
and  which  determined  its  future  fate.  But  even  then  Ger- 
many had  ceased  to  be  the  Germany  of  olden  times.  The 
new  and  nuglity  interest  which  had  been  awakened,  pro- 
diicpd  a  corresponding  change  in  the  politics  of  the  empire. 
Its  princes  had  learnt  to  estimate  their  power;  they  had 
found  themselves  in  a  position  which  obliged  them  to  call  it 
into  action  ;  and,  although  the  preHminary  treaty  of  Passau, 
confirmed  as  it  was  by  the  subsequent  peace,  concluded^ 
1555,  at  Augsburgh,  had  secured  equal  constitutional  rights 
to  botli  the  new  and  the  old  party,  it  was  impossible  that 
they  shouk!  relapse  into  their  former  indolence,  and  with  it, 
into  tiieir  former  political  nonentity.  Although  the  words 
of  peace  were  on  men's  lips,  they  had  not  put  away  resent- 
ment and  distrust  from  their  hearts;  the  new  energy  which 
the  Reformation  had  imparted  to  politics  remained  in  full 
force ;  the  two  parties  watched  each  other  ready  armed  for 


I 


l» 


a  struggle ;  or  if  they  laid  aside  their  weapons  for  a  moment, 
it  was  only  to  resume  them  upon  the  first  appearance  of 

danger. 

Besides  this,  the  previous  peace  had  been  procured  too 
cheaply  to  allow  of  its  being  durable.     Great  revolutions 
are  not  to  be  decided  by  the  struggle  of  a  moment ;  and 
more  than  this  the  fortunate  attempt  of  Maurice  can  hardly 
be  considered.     Notwithstanding  the  peace,  Germany  re- 
sembled the  sea  while  still  heaving  from  the  eflfects  of  a 
storm,  and  for  a  long  time  it  remained  under  the  influence 
of  revolutionary  feelings,  which  promised  a  new  explosion  at 
every  moment;    indeed,  were  it  not  for  the  explanation, 
which  is  aflforded  by  the  personal  characters  of  the  three  im- 
mediate successors  of  Charles  V.,  history  could  scarcely  pre- 
sent a  more  extraordinary  phenomenon  than  the  continuance 
of  this  state  of  things  down  to  the  year  1618,  when  the 
thirty  years'  war  at  length  broke  out.     The  treaty  of  West- 
phalia, which  concluded   it,  finally  and  fully  decided  the 
strife  between  the  two  parties,  and  gave  to  the  German  em- 
pire that  constitution,  which,  down  to  our  own  times,  has 
been  considered  the  palladium  of  its  existence. 
^ T  T^'hus  to  the  Reformation  and  its  consequences  the  Ger- 
\  man  body  owes  the  form  which  it  has  since  assumed,  and 
\the  vital  spirit  by  which  it  is  animated.     It  was  scarcely 
Conceivable  that  such  a  political  body,  comprising  as  it  did^ 
so  many  and  such  diflferent  states,  should  for  a  length  of 
time  be  kept  in  activity  by  any  one  common  interest.     For 
such  a  purpose  what  point  of  union  should  we  have  been  in- 
clined to  select  ?  A  desire  of  aggrandizement,  or  at  least  of 
a  powerful   influence  over  the  affairs  of  foreign  nations? 
Such  a  desire  could  not  exist  in  a  state  which,  although  am- 
ply endowed  with  means  of  resistance,  possessed  scarce  any 
of  attack. — Perhaps  a  common  commercial  interest  ?    Ger- 
many had  no  such  interest,  nor  could  have,  owing  to  its 
geographical   position  and    its  division   into  small  states. 
There  remains  therefore  but  one — that  which  depended  upon 
the  necessity  of  a  common  resistance  to  attacks  from  with- 
out} History  however  shows,  by  abundant  instances,  that 
such  causes  are  transitory,  and  that  with  them  the  interest 
they  call  up  must  pass  away  also ;  and  the  history  of  Ger- 
many in  particular  has  shown  how  easy  the  enemies  of  the 


I 


256 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


empire  found  it  to  acquire  friends  in  a  state  so  composed, 
and  to  make  war  upon  Germans  by  the  assistance  of  Ger- 
mans.   The  internal  union  of  this  body  of  states  was,  there- 
fore, nothing  but  a  slow  and  lingering  disease ;  which,  while 
it  maintained  a  show  of  health  in  its  subject,  was  on  that  ac- 
count preparing  it  the  more  surely,  either  for  total  dissolu- 
tion, or  for  subjection — it  matters  not  whether  to  its  own  supe- 
rior, or  to  a  foreigner— but  in  both  cases  for  its  destruction. 
It  was  only  by  a  Spirit  of  Disunion  that  it  could  be 
fairly  roused  into  life;  and  this  the  Reformation  produced 
by  giving  separate  and  peculiar  interests  to  the  Protestant 
and  CathoHc  parties.     It  cannot  be  denied  that  it  was  im- 
possible accurately  to  foretell  what  the  consequences  of  these 
divisions  might  be.     The  interference  of  foreign  powers  in 
the  contest  appeared,  as  in  fact  it  was,  inevitable ;  a  con- 
currence of  fortunate  circumstances,  however,  averted  the 
consequences  which  were  thus  threatened,  and  that  often 
iiiuie  successfully  than  could  have  been  expected.     More- 
over, if  the  separate  interests  of  the  two  parties  had  been  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  render  it  impossible  that  they  should  be- 
come subservient  to  the  interests  of  the  empire,  or,  still 
worse,  if  they  had  been  opposed  to  it,  a  total  dismember- 
ment might  have  been  the  result.     Luckily,  however,  this 
was  not  the  case ;   neither  interest  contained  in  itself  any 
thmg  contrary  to  the  rights  of  the  head  of  the  empire,  or  of 
the  individual  states :  they  centred  upon  the  subject  of  re- 
ligion and  the  rights  connected  with  it ;  and,  after  abund- 
ance of  feud  and  warfare,  it  was  sufficiently  ascertained  by 
experience,  that  the  establishment  of  the  Corpus  Evangelico- 
rum— which  did  not  receive  its  definite  form  till  long  after 
the  thing  itself  had  existed  (1653)— tended  to  no  irremedi- 
able division  between  the  diet  and  the  empire.    On  the  con- 
trary, the  mutual  watch  which  the  two  parties  kept  upon 
each  other,  and  the  constant  attentiveness  which  they  showed, 
oiteri  with  good  reason,  sometimes  in  a  degree  almost  ridi- 
culuus,  to  the  slightest  advances  of  their  antagonists,  afforded 
a  warrant  for  the  maintenance  of  the  German  Constitution, 
at  least  m  its  principal  parts,  which  could  certainly  not  have 
been  furnished  in  any  other  way.     From  this  more  elevated 
point  ot  view,  all  those  dissensions,  debates,  and  wars,  which 
the  Reformation  produced  in  the  interior  of  this  body,  ap- 


I 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


257 


pear  in  a  more  gentle  light ;  they  are  reckoned  only  as  the 
means  to  an  end ;  and  if  it  was  the  Reformation  which  at 
its  commencement  breathed  new  life  into  the  empire,  it  was 
the  Reformation  also  which  for  a  long  time  maintained  thi«> 
life  and  assured  its  political  existence. 

AUSTRIA. 

The  hQjjsejDlAustria— which  of  all  the  dynasties  of  modern 
•tUS^Th^l^T^  won  the  most-was  the  first  to  found  its 
political  schemes  upon  the  disturbances  of  the  Reformation^ 
FVte  presented"  iiartTflTSFIiiswlffiXp^^ 
to  all  his  contemporaries  in  political  talent,  and  at  least  equal 
to  any  of  them  in  power.    It  requires  abihties  of  a  rare  kind 
to  make  their  possessor  feel  at  home  in  a  new  order  ot 
things  such  as  a  revolution  is  apt  to  produce.      A  great 
genius  alone  is  capable  of  rising  above  the  routine  of  pre- 
vious experience  and  custom,  and  of  calculating  the  conibin- 
ations  by  which  its  measures  are  to  be  directed.     But  how- 
ever willing  we  may  be  to  do  justice  to  the  political  talents 
of  Charles  v.,  it  was  impossible  that  he  should  from  the  hrst 
be  able  to  foresee  the  course  which  these  violent  revolutions 
would  take,  at  least  by  any  direct  process  of  calculation. 

The  relation  in  which  he  stood  to  the  pope,  as  Protector 
of  the  Church,  made  him  from  the  beginning  an  opponent 
of  the  Reformation ;   but  his  political  designs  in  Germany 
were  not  formed  till  he  found  in  the  league  of  Smalcald 
(1530)  a  party  armed  in  direct  opposition  to  himseit.     1  he 
maintenance  of  the  respect  due  to  the  majesty  of  the  empire 
required  that  this  should  be  suppressed ;  but  then  its  sup- 
pression, even  though  the  existing  forms  of  the  constitution 
should  be  observed,  could  hardly  be  effected  without  the  in- 
troduction of  absolute  power  into  Germany.     That  this  plan 
was  frustrated,  and  in  a  way  which  no  previous  calculations 
could  have  determined,  has  been  already  observed  ;  but  still 
the  new  doctrines  were  not  the  less  important  as  regarded 
the  organization  of  the  Austrian  monarchy,  even  though  it 
did  not  play  a  prominent  part  in  the  game. 

We  may  remark  here,  that  in  the  hereditary  duchy  of 
Austria,  the  power  of  the  reigning  house  became  nearly 
absolute— while  that  of  the  states  was  reduced  to  a  mere 
shadow— by  the  suppression  of  the  Protestant  party  under 


258 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


Ferdinand  II.  It  derived  also  the  greatest  possible  advantage 
from  the  use  vyrhich  it  made  of  the  religious  disturbances  in 
Hungary  and  Bohemia.  The  house  of  Hapsburg  may  thank 
the  Reformation  for  the  opportunities  which  it  afforded  them 
of  converting  both  these  states  from  electoral  into  hereditary 
dominions ;  and  of  rearing  in  the  latter  an  absolute  sove- 
reignty on  the  ruins  of  their  ancient  national  freedom. 
When  the  battle  of  Prague  (1620)  left  the  rebellious  nation 
a  prey  to  the  tyranny  of  its  conqueror,  the  moment  was  not  let 
slip.  It  was  robbed  of  its  privileges,  and  Bohemia  became 
in  FACT  an  hereditary  kingdom,  although  politicians  were  still 
left  to  dispute  whether  it  should  be  called  electoral  or  not. 

The  fate  of  Hungary,  although  not  so  immediately  de- 
cided, was  not  less  owing  to  the  religious  disputes  of  the 
Reformation.  The  new  doctrines  found  so  ready  an  admit- 
tance here,  that  the  supporters  of  them  soon  formed  a  coun- 
terpoise to  those  of  the  older  creed,  and  at  length,  by  the 
peace  of  Vienna  (in  1606)  and  the  capitulation  of  king 
Matthias  (1608),  obtained  not  only  the  free  exercise  of  their 
religion,  but,  by  the  latter  event,  equal  political  rights  with 
them.  The  history  of  Hungary,  however,  has  made  it  suf- 
ficiently known  how  little  the  collisions  of  party  were  put  an 
end  to  by  these  concessions ;  how  little  the  promises  made 
to  the  Protestants  were  observed ;  how  advantage  was  taken 
of  the  excitement  which  prevailed  to  introduce  foreign  troops, 
and,  notwithstanding  all  remonstrance,  to  maintain  them  in 
the  country ;  and,  lastly,  how  systematically  the  most  cry- 
ing oppression  w^as  practised,  till  at  length  (1670)  produced 
conspiracies,  the  extinction  of  which  necessarily  augmented 
tiie  power  of  the  government.  The  web  of  strife,  however, 
was  not  yet  broken  off,  and  its  meshes  had  so  thoroughly 
entangled  the  Protestant  contests  with  those  of  Transylvania 
and  the  Porte,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  follow  out  the 
separate  threads.  The  dealings  with  the  Protestants,  how- 
ever, evidently  formed  the  groundwork  of  the  tissue.  Pre- 
parations were  thus  gradually  made  for  the  step  which  was 
at  length  (1687)  successfully  taken,  and  the  electoral  king- 
dom became  hereditary.  Nor  were  the  advantages  which 
Aubtria  thus  obtained  the  less  important  because  Hungary  has 
hitherto  resisted,  with  tolerable  success,  all  the  attempts  which 
have  been  made  to  overturn  its  remaining  rights  as  a  nation. 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


259 


However  little  cohesion,  then,  there  may  be  between  the 
different  parts,  in  themselves  so  powerful,  which  compose  this 
monarchy,  it  chiefly  owes  to  the  Reformation,  and  to  the 
manner  in  which  its  consequences  were  applied,  whatever 
unity  and  internal  stability  it  possesses.  The  late  changes 
in  Europe  have  increased  its  power,  both  by  extending  its 
dominions,  and  by  teaching  it  how  to  apply  its  resources. 
It  has  now^  no  distant  territory  to  protect ;  but  placed  as  it 
is  in  continual  opposition  to  powerful  adversaries,  and  de- 
prived of  the  outworks  which  formerly  guarded  it,  it  must 
make  the  best  use  of  those  advantages  to  which  the  Reform- 
ation prepared  the  way,  in  order  to  maintain  the  proud  sta- 
tion which  it  at  present  occupies. 

PRUSSIA. 

The  foundation  of  the  Prussian  monarchy  was  one  of  the 
earliest  works  of  the  Reformation.  It  was  doubtless  beyond 
mortal  power  to  foresee  that  so  noble  a  structure  should  ever 
be  raised  upon  it.  Such  a  result  required  a  concurrence  of 
fortunate  circumstances,  and  a  taskmaster  to  guide  the  work, 
such  as  hardly  any  state  could  show  within  the  annals  of  a 
like  period  of  time.  And  yet  the  thing  is  so — without  the 
Reformation,  Europe  would  have  had  an  elector  of  Bran- 
denburgh,  but  no  king  of  Prussia.  In  the  beginning  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  Prussia  was  still  under  priestly  dominion, 
being  attached  to  the  Teutonic  order  which  had  conquered 
it ;  and  which,  with  its  grand  master,  continued  to  govern 
it.  But  scarcely  had  the  new  doctrines  spread  themselves, 
and  pointed  out  a  way  by  which  spiritual  princes  might 
render  their  power  hereditary,  than  Albert,  grand  master  of 
the  Teutonic  order  in  Prussia,  and  a  scion  of  the  house  of 
Brandenburgh,  made  the  first  successful  attempt  of  this  kind. 
As  early  as  the  year  1525  he  secularized  his  dominions, 
and  formed  them  into  an  hereditary  duchy,  though  as  a  fief 
of  Poland,  and  became  by  his  marriage  the  founder  of  a 
line,  of  which  the  last  female  descendant,  Anne,  espoused 
John  Sigismond,  then  electoral  prince  of  Brandenburgh, 
and  afterwards  elector.  When  Prussia  came  into  the  pos- 
session of  the  electoral  house  of  Brandenburgh,  it  was  still 
a  fief;  but  by  the  treaty  of  Wehlau,  (1657,)  and  more  fully 

'  It  must  be  remembered  that  this  was  written  in  1802.     Tr. 

s  2 


260 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


by  the  peace  of  Oliva,  (1660,)  it  was  declared  a  sovereign 
principality,  and  its  feudal  tenure  was  done  away ;  in  1701 
it  was  raised  to  a  kingdom,  and  stepped,  or  at  least  gradu- 
ally advanced,  into  the  first  rank  of  European  powers. 

Although  the  Reformation,  however,  was  the  means,  as 
we  have  shown,  of  laying  the  first  stone  of  the  Prussian 
monarchy,  it  cannot  be  said  that  it  conduced  greatly  to  its 
further  erection,  unless  we  are  prepared  to  consider  the  ac- 
quisitions, which  it  made  at  the  peace  of  Westphalia,  as  re- 
sulting from  that  event. 

The  Reformation  has,  in  fact,  exercised  a  much  smaller 
influence  on  the  double  part  which  Prussia  has  played  in 
foreign  policy,  both  as  one  of  the  powers  of  Europe,  and 
as  one  of  the  first  states  in  the  German  empire,  than  is  com- 
monly supposed.     The  causes  of  this  may  be  sufficiently 
gathered  from  the  short  chronological  sketch  which  we  have 
just  given.    During  the  whole  period  throughout  which  the 
interests  of  religion  continued  to  act  as  a  mainspring  in  Eu- 
ropean politics— that  is,  down  to  the  peace  of  Westphalia, 
and  the  time  of  Lewis  XIV.,  the  house  of  Brandenburgh 
was  still  too  weak  to  exercise  any  decisive  influence  upon  the 
German  body,  to  say  nothing  of  Europe  at  large.     As  it 
gradually  after  this  acquired  strength  under  the  great  elector 
and  its  two  first  kings,  the  Reformation,  as  we  shall  here- 
after have  to  observe,  lost  all  political  power,  and  a  new 
interest  took  its  place.  The  second,  and  minor  game,  which 
Prussia  had  to  play  in  the  empire,  was  to  maintain  the  balance 
against  Austria.  But  Prussia  did  not  fairly  become  the  rival 
of  Austria  till  the  conquest  of  Silesia  by  Frederic  II.,    and 
their  relative  position  was  wholly  uninfluenced  by  religion. 
Besides,  although  Prussia  or  Brandenburgh  was  one  of  the 
most  powerful,  and  finally  the  most  powerful,  of  the  Protest- 
ant states,  it  cannot  be  considered  as  the  head  of  that  party. 
This  pre-eminence  belonged,  as  is  well  known,  from  the 
first,  to  Saxony  ;  and  when  Prussia  became  the  more  power- 
ful of  the  two,  the  matter  was  no  longer  of  consequence, 
since  this  party,  although  it  retained  the  forms  of  one,  was 
fast  losing  its  essential  character  as  such. 

FRANCE. 

It  was  chiefly  from  Switzerland  that  France  derived  its 
share  of  the  Reformation ;  and  although  it  was  thus  influ- 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


261 


enced  rather  by  the  doctrines  of  Zwingle  than  those  of  Lu- 
ther, yet  the  political  sphere  of  these  two  reformers  was  so 
nearly  the  same,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  define  that 
of  the  one  without  ascertaining  that  of  the  other  also.  In  no 
other  country  of  Europe,  not  even  in  Germany,  had  the 
Reformation  been  so  speedily  advanced  as  in  Switzerland. 
The  energetic  character  of  these  mountaineers  leads  them 
to  a  rapid'' decision;  and  the  more  confined  the  ideas  of  a 
race  of  herdsmen  may  be,  the  more  earnestly  do  they  cling 
to  those  which  they  have  once  adopted.  While  in  Germany 
the  two  parties  were  still  engaged  with  capitulations,  the 
civil  war  broke  out  in  the  cantons,  (1530,)  and  seemed  to 
threaten  a  total  dissolution  of  the  confederacy.  Fortunately, 
however,  a  short  struggle  suflficed  to  produce  a  lasting  peace ; 
and  although  the  mutual  hatred  of  the  parties  did  not  imme- 
diately pass  away,  it  was  not  again  thought  necessary  to  shed 
blood  for  its  satisfaction.  Bitter  feelings  gradually  subsided  ;  . 
public  attention  became  directed  to  other  subjects  ;  and  the 
enviable  fate  of  this  country,  which  general  opinion  seemed 
to  agree  in  considering  holy  and  inviolable,  removed  it  from 
a  participation  in  the  affairs  of  the  rest  of  Europe,  which 
might  easily  have  lit  up  the  flame  of  discord  anew. 

The  numerous  relations  which  existed  between  Switzer- 
land and  France,  afforded  peculiar  facilities  of  access  to  the 
Reformation  from  this  quarter  ;  could  it  have  been  expect- 
ed then  that  a  nation,  which  perhaps  may  be  said  to  exceed 
all  others  in  the  quick  perception  of  ideas,  should  long  re- 
main indifferent  to  it?  Francis  I.,  however,  knew  too  well 
how  much  the  kingly  power  had  to  fear  from  a  party  whose 
church  principles  were  almost  purely  democratic,  to  allow 
of  his  encouraging  it ;  the  oppression  and  persecutions  of 
his  son  gave  it  consistency,  and  prepared  it  for  resistance  ; 
and  when  under  his  weak  descendants  it  lent  itself  to  the 
ambitious  purposes  of  men  in  power,  it  assumed  the  charac- 
ter of  a  formidable  opposition.  The  history  of  the  bloody 
wars  which  were  thus  prepared,  and  which  occupied  the 
latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  down  to  the  edict  of 
Nantes,  (1562—1598,)  is  so  well  known  that  we  need  not 
do  more  than  allude  to  them;  the  permanent  influence 
which  they  exercised  upon  the  political  condition  of  France, 
is,  however,  too  important  to  be  passed  over.    This  influence 


26^ 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


may  be  considered  under  two  points  of  view,  and  these  in 
apparent  opposition  to  each  other.  It  prepared  the  way  on 
the  one  hand  for  the  absolute  power  of  the  king,  and  yet  on 
the  other  it  seems,  even  after  the  fall  of  its  party,  to  have 
maintained  a  spirit  of  resistance  in  the  nation. 

It  is  a  common  phenomenon  in  great  monarchies,  that 
the  power  of  the  government  does  not  become  firmly  estab- 
lished, and  either  wholly,  or  in  great  part,  absolute,  till  it 
has  undergone  a  struggle  with  some  strong  party  in  opposi- 
tion to  it.  At  the  moment  when  such  a  party  has  been  sup- 
pressed or  disarmed,  every  thing  is  open  to  the  sovereign ; 
and  even  the  remaining  props  of  national  liberty  may  be 
easily  put  aside.  In  France  the  government  found  such  an 
opposition  as  we  describe,  in  the  party  of  the  Hugonots.  It 
is  true  that  it  was  the  government  itself,  which  by  its  perse- 
cutions, its  duplicity,  and  utter  cruelty,  converted  a  friendly 
sect  into  a  parti/  of  political  opponents.  This  cannot  be 
denied — the  cry  of  death  which  was  raised  on  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's night,  and  echoes  to  all  ages,  is  too  strong  an  evi- 
dence of  this  ;  but  still  an  unprejudiced  observer  must  con- 
fess, that  the  foundation  of  any  stable  government  in  France 
must  needs  have  remained  impossible,  as  long  as  this  party 
continued  to  hold  arms  in  its  hands. 

The  edict  of  Nantes  had  undoubtedly  softened  down  their 
violence  : — on  such  fearful  storms  as  had  here  raged,  a 
period  of  calm  must  at  any  rate  follow — ;  but  the  events 
which  occurred  after  the  murder  of  Henry  IV.  served  to 
show  how  formidable  "the  Hugonots  still  were. 

It  was  difficult  for  any  great  and  effectual  measures  of 
government  to  be  carried  through  without  coming  in  con- 
tact with  them ;  for  such  a  party  cannot  for  any  time  exist 
without  involving  its  own  interests  with  the  interests  of  the 
state,  in  such  a  multiplicity  of  ways  as  to  afford  abundance 
of  real,  or,  what  is  in  effect  the  same,  imaginary  points  of 
excitement.  The  struggle  which  Richelieu  maintained 
against  the  Hugonots  was,  therefore,  a  necessary  struggle, 
if  any  permanent  order  of  things  was  to  be  establi'shed 
in  France  :  he  wished  to  disarm  but  not  to  extirpate  them  ; 
and  the  condition  in  which  they  were  left  by  the  peace 
of  Rochelle,  (1629,)  was  such  as,  in  accordance  with  law, 
they  ought  to  have  been  placed  in ;  although,  at  the  same 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


263 


time,  no  one  will  pretend  to  extenuate  the  persecutions  in 
which  the  intolerance  of  subsequent  governments  led  them 
to  indulge,  down  to  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes. 

But  in  proportion  as  we  find  it  easy  to  show  the  truth  of 
our  first  remark,  do  we  find  it  difficult  to  adduce  historical 
proof  of  the  other,  its  apparent  contradiction,  viz.  that  the 
maintenance  of  a  spirit  of  resistance  in  the  people  was  owing 
to  the  Hugonot  party.    It  is  not  however  the  less  true  on 
this  account :  for  in  the  first  place,  we  cannot  doubt  that 
such  fearful  disturbances  as  those  which  were  caused  by  the 
religious  disputes  in  France,  must  have  left  traces  in  the 
national  character  which  could  not  easily  be  effaced.    But, 
besides  this,  history  has  not  left  us  without  proofs.     It  is 
well  known  that,  after  the  time  of  Richelieu,  the  spirit  of 
opposition  which  had  been  raised,  passed  into  the  parlia- 
ment of  France.    The  degree  of  influence  which  the  Re- 
formation exercised  in  this  case  cannot  be  clearly  determined 
without  lengthened  details.     But  it  would  be  difficult  to 
deny  such  an  influence  altogether,  since  by  the  edict  of 
Nantes  the  Protestants  were  allowed  a  share  in  the  counsels 
of  this  body— although  their  admittance  is  neither  the  only 
nor  the  principal  source,  to  which  we  should  seek  to  refer  it. 
Of  this,  as  of  their  other  rights,  the  Protestants  were  again 
deprived  by  the  revocation  of  the  edict ;  but  the  spirit  of 
the  party  was  not  destroyed  by  its  suppression ;  it  acquired 
new  life,  with  such  modifications  only  as  the  change  of  times 
rendered  necessary,  under  the  garb  of  Jansenism.    A  full 
development  of  its  progress  is  beyond  the  limits  of  this  trea- 
tise; but  we  may  observe,  that  the  history  of  literature 
shows  plainly  enough  that  this  party  derived  warmth  and 
vigour  from  the  flame,  which  the  learned  disputes  of  the 
Protestants  and  their  opponents  had  kindled  in  the  theology 
of  France.    These  debates  were  succeeded  by  others  which 
produced  the  great  catastrophe  of  our  own  day,  and  by 
which  the  Reformation  and  its  political  consequences  were 
thrown  into  the  background  ;  but  on  that  account  became, 
in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  more  peculiarly  the  property 
of  history. 

ENGLAND. 

The  Reformation  was  of  still  more  importance  to  England 
than  to  France ;    the  new  doctrines  were  triumphant  here. 


/ 


264 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


as  they  were,  and  continued  to  be,  suppressed  there ;  and 
these  two  nations — the  antipodes  of  each  other  in  so  many 
respects — were  destined  to  a  still  wider  difference  by  dis- 
agreeing on  this  point.  The  important  consequences  which 
resulted  to  the  two  countries,  in  their  relation  to  each  other, 
and  to  Europe  in  general,  from  this  circumstance,  belong  to 
the  second  division  of  our  subject ;  we  have  here  only  to 
consider  the  effects  thereby  produced  upon  England  itself. 

The  progress  of  the  Reformation  was  of  a  peculiar  kind  in 
this  country,  as  we  might  expect  from  its  insular  character. 
Henry  VTII.  viewed  it  only  as  a  means  of  gratifying  his 
passions  and  serving  his  personal  interest,  and  as  such,  in 
fact,  he  used  it ;  but  a  tyrant,  who  was  guided  by  the  whim 
of  the  moment,  and  incapable  of  forming  any  permanent 
scheme,  could  not  employ  it  with  the  ability  of  Charles  V. ; 
while  by  his  supremacy  he  exercised  a  more  violent  despot- 
ism over  the  conscience  and  opinions  of  his  subjects  than 
the  pope  would  ever  have  dared  to  attempt.  During  the 
short  reign  of  his  son  and  successor,  Edward  VI.,  (1547 — 
1553,)  the  Reformation  was  really  introduced;  but  as  the 
bigoted  intolerance  of  his  sister  Mary  (1553 — 1558)  again 
overturned  the  feeble  and  scarce  completed  edifice,  it  was 
reserved  for  the  long  and  well-conducted  reign  of  Elizabeth 
(1558 — 1603)  to  lay  its  foundation  anew,  and  upon  more 
secure  ground. 

The  Articles  of  belief  in  England  were  changed ;  the 
supremacy  of  the  Roman  see  was  shaken  off ;  but  in  other 
respects  the  framework  of  the  hierarchy  was  left  untouched. 
By  the  act  of  supremacy,  renewed  under  Elizabeth  as  it  had 
first  been  passed  under  Henry,  the  king  stepped  into  the  place 
of  the  pope  ;  and  this  supremacy  was  probably  the  chief 
advantage  which  accrued  to  the  crown  from  the  Reforma- 
tion. In  times  when  religion  was  so  inseparably  connected 
with  politics,  such  unlimited  spiritual  dominion  necessarily 
tended,  in  substance  if  not  in  form,  to  render  the  temporal 
puu  Li  unlimited  also  ;  and  the  ''  High  Commission  "  of  Eli- 
zabeth gives  a  sufficient  example  of  the  uses  to  which  it 
might  be  applied.  Again,  as  the  Head  of  the  Church  re- 
quired instruments  by  which  it  might  act  as  such,  the 
existent  hierarchy  was  left  almost  unaltered  in  its  ancient 
torm.  Ihe  Episcopal  Church  was  thus  established  ;  which 
receiver]  it^  definite  rule  of  faith  for  the  first  time  under 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


265 


EHzabeth  (1571).  The  English  Church,  therefore,  was  dis- 
tinguished by  the  peculiarity  of  its  organization  m  retaining 
the  higher  spiritual  orders — the  archbishops  and  bishops — 
with  seats  and  voices  in  the  Upper  House.  In  this  manner 
the  hierarchy  remained  interwoven  with  the  constitution; 
and  the  question  which  we  are  interested  in  answering  here, 
regards  the  value  and  consequences  of  this  institution  to 

the  state.  , 

It  was  the  belief,  very  naturally  resulting  from  the  king  s 
supremacy,  that  the  hierarchy  would  prove  a  firm  support 
to  the  throne  at  its  head,  which  preserved  that  body ;  a  be- 
lief which  afterwards  furnished  the  Stuartswith  their  favourite 
maxim:  "  No  bishop,  no  king."  Nevertheless,  the  connexion 
asserted  in  this  sentence  is  by  no  means  so  directly  evident 
as  to  make  it  unreasonable  to  inquire  whether  it  had  any  truth 
at  bottom,  or  was  merely  the  product  of  fanaticism. 

The  political  power  of  the  bishops,  and  their  direct  in- 
fluence upon  the  state  through  the  House  of  Lords,  is  too  in- 
significant to  have  been  much  relied  on.     If  we  are,  there- 
fore, to  attribute  any  meaning  to  the  above  expression,  it 
must  be  this :  that  by  uniting  the  interests  of  the  heads  of 
the  church  with  those  of  the  crown,  it  was  designed,  that 
not  only  their  support,  but  that  of  the  people  itself,  should 
be  secured.     The  political  importance  of  the  bishops,  there- 
fore, depended  upon  their  influence  with  the  people.     And 
consequently,    as   soon   as   the   schismatics    had    acquired 
strength,  and  formed  themselves  into  a  religious,  and  as  such, 
into  a  political  party,  experience  showed  that  the  bishops, 
although  nominally  the  props  of  the  throne,  were  but  a  fee- 
ble support.    They  fell  with  it,  and  they  were  restored  with  it. 
As  regards  the  general  question,  how  far  the  hierarchy  of 
a  state  may  be  called  the  safeguard  of  the  throne,  this  must 
depend  chiefly  upon  the  spirit  of  the  times ;  since  by  it  their 
influence  over  the  minds  of  the  people  is  determined.     In 
times  of  religious  fanaticism  this  may  be  very  great,  and  the 
permanence  of  the  throne  may  be  inseparably  linked  with 
that  of  the  hierarchy.    The  progress  of  events,  however,  gra- 
dually dissolves  these  ties  ;  and  the  throne  of  Great  Britain 
at  present  rests  upon  very  different  support  from  that  of  the 
hierarchy,  which  is  neither  important,  nor  inviolable,  except 
as  forming  an  integral  part  of  the  constitution. 


266 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


267 


But  if  the  Reformation  on  the  one  hand  laid  the  found- 
ation of  an  increase  of  the  kingly  power  in  England,  it  did 
not  do  this  without  creating  a  disaffected  party  on  the  other ; 
which,  when  the  helm  of  state  passed  into  a  less  experienced 
grasp,  was  the  means  of  raising  a  storm  under  the  violence 
of  which  the  throne  gave  way,  and  for  a  long  time  remained 
prostrate. 

In  times  like  those  such  a  Reformation  as  that  in  England, 
which  was  in  a  certain  sense  only  half  a  Reformation,  was 
necessarily  a  dangerous  undertaking.  A  period  of  revolu- 
tion will  not  submit  to  partial  measures,  because  it  is  a  pe- 
riod of  fanaticism.  What  else  then  could  be  expected,  than 
that,  in  the  eyes  of  the  pu?^e  reformers,  the  remaining  frame- 
work of  the  hierarchy  should  be  deemed  an  abomination  ? 
that  Episcopalians  and  Catholics  should  be  held  to  differ  in 
little  except  in  name  ?  And  when  the  Church  of  England 
was  finally  guarded  about  by  limits  which  excluded  all  other 
communions  from  a  participation,  not  only  in  it,  but  in  the 
most  important  political  rights,  how  could  it  be  otherwise 
than  that  a  contest  should  ensue?  Then,  as  the  religious 
principles  of  the  insurgents  were  purely  democratic,  what 
was  more  natural  than  that  the  fate  of  the  hierarchy  should 
include  that  of  the  throne? 

Considered  from  this  point  of  view,  the  events  of  the 
English  revolution,  which  are  too  well  known  to  require  any 
further  notice,  appear  in  their  proper  light,  as  one  con- 
nected whole.  With  the  restoration  of  the  throne  the  domi- 
nant church  was  restored  also ;  but  when,  by  the  famous 
Toleration  Act  of  William  III.,  (1688,)  the  penal  laws  against 
the  Dissenters  were  removed,  they  could  no  longer  form  a 
political  party.  With  the  Catholics  it  was  no  doubt  differ- 
ent ;  but  their  number  in  England  was  too  small  to  cause 
apprehension.  There  may  certainly  be  times,  and  there 
have  been  in  England,  when  the  introduction  of  a  Test  Act 
may  be  necessary;  but  whether  its  continuance  conduces 
most  to  security  or  danger,  is  a  question  which  I  shall  leave 
others  to  answer.  However  this  may  be,  the  general  inter- 
ests of  Great  Britain  remained  inseparably  connected  with 
the  Reforiiiution  ;  and  by  it,  after  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
revolutions  of  destiny,  the  throne  was  opened  to  that  family 
under  whose  glorious  dominion  England  witnessed  the  ap- 


f 


pearance  of  what  may,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  be  termed 
her  golden  age. 

But  while  speaking  of  the  mistress  of  the  sea,  let  me  be 
allowed  to  throw  a  glance  upon  that  neighbouring  island, 
which  having  been  subject  to  her  for  centuries,  has  been 
deluged  with  blood,  whenever  it  has  dared  to  shake  the  fet- 
ters which  bound  it.  While  the  Reformation  spread  its 
blessings,  sooner  or  later,  over  other  lands,  Ireland  appears 
to  have  been  destined  only  to  feel  its  curse.  The  wounds 
which  it  dealt  here,  were  too  deep  to  be  scarred  over;  and 
even  since  the  efforts  of  a  more  liberal  policy  have  been 
directed  to  their  cure,  it  must  be  left  to  time  to  decide  whe- 
ther the  means  applied  will  be  sufficient. 

Long  before  the  Reformation,  the  inhabitants  of  Ireland 
had  been  expelled  from  part  of  their  possessions  by  English 
colonists  ;  and  a  hatred  of  their  conquerors  had  been  engen- 
dered, to  which  the  Reformation  gave  new  vigour.  The 
Irish  remained  Catholic,  if  for  no  other  cause  than  that  their 
oppressors  were  Protestant. 

Being  again  plundered  of  a  considerable  portion  of  their 
lands,  when  James  I.  sent  over  a  new  host  of  colonists,  their 
disaffection  was  increased  ;  and  during  the  civil  wars  under 
the  hapless  Charles,  a  fearful  insurrection  broke  out,  (1641,) 
which  cost  above  a  hundred  thousand  of  the  Protestants  in 
Ireland  their  lives,  and  went  near  to  exterminate  them 
altogether. 

The  civil  war  now^  raged  for  ten  years  without  interruption, 
till  it  gave  Cromwell  a  pretext  for  new  acts  of  injustice,  the 
real  object  of  which  was  to  reward  his  soldiers.  Maltreated, 
plundered,  and  hunted  into  a  corner  of  the  island,  the  Irish 
saw  three  parts  of  their  country  in  the  hands  of  strangers. 
But  even  thus  the  measure  of  their  unhappiness  was  not  yet 
full.  The  same  revolution  which  restored,  and  improved, 
the  English  constitution,  and  secured  the  national  freedom, 
was  to  the  ill-fated  Irish  a  source  of  new  persecutions,  and  of 
final  subiection.  When  William  III.  had  estabUshed  his 
authority  here  with  the  sword,  (1691,)  the  miserable  remnant 
of  their  lands  was  torn  from  them  by  proscription ;  and 
what  was  even  worse  than  this,  a  legal  despotism  was  soon 
after  established,  such  as  no  otlier  country  of  Europe  has 
ever  witnessed.    By  the  statutes  of  Anne,  (1703,)  the  Catho- 


268 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


lies,  as  long  as  they  adhered  to  their  religion,  were  incapable 
of  holding  land  either  in  freehold  or  lease,  and  were  denied 
the  means  of  public  education. 

Iii  other  countries  where  the  subject  was  the  bondsman 
of  his  master,  care  at  least  was  taken  of  him,  and  sustenance 
supplied.  Personal  freedom  was  left  to  the  Irish,  that  it 
might  become  a  burden  and  a  curse  to  them.  By  an  organ- 
ized system  of  oppression,  the  people  were  reduced  to  a 
horde  of  brutal  paupers ;  and  the  consequences  were  such 
as  might  have  been  expected.  The  Irish  revenged  them- 
selves whenever  they  could,  and  their  revenge  was  that  of 
barbarians,  because  they  had  been  made  such.  It  was  in 
vain  that  under  George  III.  a  less  inhuman  system  of  go- 
vernment began  to  improve  whatever  still  admitted  of  im- 
provement; in  vain  that  the  independence  of  America 
released  Ireland  from  her  commercial  fetters  (1782)  ;  a  feel- 
ing of  misery  so  long  endured  is  not  to  be  forgotten  within 
a  few  years ;  the  traces  of  such  deeply-impressed  barbarism 
are  not  wont  to  disappear  in  a  single  generation. 

The  revolution  of  our  own  day  found  Ireland  in  that  con- 
vulsive state  into  which  it  had  been  thrown  by  those  of 
former  times,  and  while  still  under  this  influence  it  was  ex- 
posed to  a  new  and  bloody  crisis,  which  was  followed  by 
the  Union,  in  1800. 

By  this  measure  the  two  countries  were  formed  into  one 
state,  and  the  Irish  parliament  incorporated  with  that  of 
Great  Britain.  It  does  not  appear,  however,  that  its  beneficial 
results  will  be  fully  developed  till  the  political  equality  of  the 
Catholics  and  Protestants  of  Ireland  shall  have  been  finally 
established,  by  the  admission  of  the  former  into  parliament.^ 

THE  UNITED  NETHERLANDS. 

While  other  states  were  either  shaken  or  new-modelled  by 
the  Reformation,  there  was  one  which  was  created  by  it. 

'  It  is  now  six  years  since  the  emancipation  of  the  Catholics — thus  spoken 
of  by  Prof.  Heeren  twenty-seven  years  before  it  took  place — was  resorted  to 
as  a  preferable  alternative  to  civil  war.  Had  it  been  the  free  gift  of  the  legis- 
lature, instead  of  being  extorted  by  the  threat  of  rebellion,  the  merits  of  the 
measure  might  have  been  more  fairly  tried.  As  it  is,  however,  the  Catholics 
of  Ireland  appear  to  have  forgotten  the  measure  itself  in  their  triumph  at  the 
mode  in  which  it  was  obtained,  and  instead  of  developing,  as  our  author 
hoped,  the  beneficial  effects  of  the  Union,  the  passing  of  the  Catholic  Relief 
bill  is  likely  to  prove  the  means  of  defeating  it  altogether.     Tr. 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


269 


• 

From  the  midst  of  its  disturbances  the  republic  of  the 
United  Netherlands  came  forth  like  a  bright  star  between 
the  pauses  of  the  storm ;  while,  by  the  mode  of  its  origin, 
its  fate  became  inseparably  connected  with  the  Reformation ; 
and  its  fall  or  maintenance  dependent  upon  the  fall  or  main- 
tenance of  Protestantism.  By  the  course  of  events,  this  re- 
public was  almost  immediately  involved  in  the  most  intricate 
windings  of  the  general  politics  of  Europe  ;  nay,  it  was  so 
placed  as  gradually  to  give  them  a  new  direction.  Under 
this  most  interesting  point  of  view  we  shall  consider  it  in 
the  next  division  of  our  treatise ;  here  we  must  be  allowed 
to  cast  a  glance  upon  the  influence  of  the  Reformation  on 
its  internal  constitution. 

The  founders  of  this  state  had,  at  first,  no  thoughts  of 
forming  a  republic.    In  fact,  how  could  such  a  project  have 
arisen  in  an  age  when  there  were  no  republican  ideas  abroad 
in  Europe  ?     Their  views  were  of  far  narrower  compass ; 
they  only  sought  the  maintenance  of  their  old  rights  and 
privileges,  which  were  threatened  by  the  despotism  of  Phi- 
lip II.,  and  especially  by  the  introduction  of  the  Inquisition. 
Fifteen  years  were  thus  allowed  to  elapse  from  the  be- 
ginning of  the  disturbances  in  1566,  before  the  Nether- 
landers  formally  shook  off*  their  allegiance  to  Philip  II.,  and 
put  it  beyond  his  power  to  end  the  quarrel  by  concession. 
Even  then,  however,  they  had  become  so  little  accustomed 
to  the  idea  of  a  republic,  that  they  seemed  to  think  it  their 
immediate  duty  to  look  about  them  for  a  foreign  master,  re- 
quiring only  that  he  should  respect  their  ancient  rights  and 
privileges.     First  they  applied  to  France,  then  to  England 
— and  it  was  only  when  Francis  of  Alen^on  had  clearly 
proved  his  incapacity  for  such  an  office,  and  Elizabeth  had 
on  grounds  of  higher  policy  declined  it,  that  they  became 
republicans — merely  because  they  had  no  other  resource. 
Their  old  notions,  however,  appear  still  to  have  been  their 
only  guides ;  and  in  pursuance  of  them  they  established  that 
shapeless  confederacy,  in  which  they  did  not  themselves 
clearly  know  who  was  the  sovereign.     The  maintenance  of 
the  rights  of  the  states  in  the  several  provinces  was  considered 
the  most  important  object  to  be  attained ;  the  central  go- 
vernment formed  itself  as  circumstances  allowed  or  required; 
and  the  republic  would  have  gained  but  little  firmness  from 
it,  if  amidst  many  and  great  deficiencies  it  had  not  possessed 


270 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


271 


the  one  advantage  of  allowing  free  scope  to  the  individual 
activity  and  genius  of  her  great  men. 

In  such  a  state  of  things,  the  Reformed  religion,  althoucrh 
It  was  the  main  cause  of  the  insurrection,  and,  when  estab- 
lished as  the  national  mode  of  worship,  the  foundation  of 
the  republic,  could  exercise  no  direct  influence  upon  its 
further  organization.     But  as  the  whole  existence  of  this 
state  was  grounded  on  the  Reformation,  and  as  it  was  to 
religious  enthusiasm  that   its   citizens  owed    their   heroic 
spirit,  we  must  not  be  astonished  that  the  bigotry  of  Pro- 
testantism was  no  where  else  carried  so  far,  or  so  deeply 
rooted,  as  here.  The  consequence  of  this  was,  that  the  Pr  J- 
testant  clergy  had  much  more  easy  access  to  the  springs  of 
public  opinion  m  this  than  in  any  other  country ;  and  thus 
acquired  the  means  of  exercising  a  considerable  influence 
upon  the  affairs  of  the  state ;— an  influence  of  which  the 
history  of  the  republic  affords  but  too  many  traces.     The 
twelve  years'  truce  of  1609  had  no  sooner  aff^orded  a  short 
period  of  repose,  than  the  clergy  were  busy  in  lighting  up 
the  flames  of  party  violence  ;  and  Arminians  and  Gomarists 
persecuted  each  other  with  the  sam.e  animosity  as  the  Pro- 
testants and  Catholics  had  in  former  times  displayed      It  is 
well  known  by  what  ties  these  religious  differences  became 
ronnected  with  politics,  and  thus  produced  the  first  and 
bloorly  struggle  between  the  party  of  the  states  and  the  Or- 
aiigists.     No  sooner  was  it  apparent  that  the  doctrines  of 
Arminius  found  their  chief  supporters  in  the  higher  and 
TTinre  educated  classes,  and  among  the  members  of  the  states, 
ttian  Maurice  of  Orange  declared  himself  for  the  opposite 
and  orthodox  party,  and  at  the  head  of  the  majority  of  the 
nation  dared  to  bring  Oldenbameveld  to  the  block  (1619). 
Although  it  was  religion,  however,  which  gave  a  pretext 
to  the  parties  for  a  commencement  of  the  feud,  with  which 
the  subsequent  history  of  this  state  is  almost  exclusively  con- 
cerned, the  true  cause  must  be  sought  elsewhere.     It  lay  in 
the  very  groundwork  of  their  constitution,  and  it  is  only  by 
a  ill!!  explanation  of  this— a  task  beyond  our  limits— that  it 
can  i)e  clearly  pointed  out. 

SWEDEN. 

Ln   the  lour  kingdoms  which,  as  long  as  Poland  existed, 
formed  the  north  of  Europe,  the  pohtical  consequences  of 


the  Reformation  displayed  themselves  in  a  very  different 
manner.  The  most  remote  of  these,  by  its  situation,  its  re- 
ligion, and,  more  than  all,  by  the  barbarous  condition  in 
which  it  was,  lay  beyond  the  influence  of  the  storm.  Of  the 
other  three,  one  owed  its  existence  and  its  greatness — al- 
though transient — to  the  Reformation  ;  another,  its  prospe- 
rity and  its  constitution ;  the  third,  dates  its  downfal  from 
the  same  source.  And  thus  we  see  that,  in  the  moral  as  in 
the  physical  world,  what  is  deadly  poison  to  one  often  proves 
the  means  of  saving  life  in  another  ! 

At  precisely  this  epoch,  while  the  Reformation  was 
spreading  in  Germany  with  a  rapidity  which  nothing  could 
check,  the  north  of  Europe  had  arrived  at  the  political  crisis 
which  determined  its  future  fate.  The  Union  of  Calmar, 
the  parent  of  so  much  discord  and  warfare,  was  dissolved ; 
and  Gustavus  Vasa  restored  (1521)  the  throne  of  Sweden  to 
its  former  independence.  But  notwithstanding  his  courage 
and  the  progress  which  he  made,  and  in  spite  of  the  favour- 
able position  in  which  he  was  placed  by  the  insurrection  in 
Denmark  and  the  expulsion  of  his  rival,  king  Christian  II., 
he  yet  found  himself  in  a  situation  which  secured  to  him 
rather  the  name  than  the  power  of  a  king.  It  cannot  be 
denied,  however,  that  Gustavus  Vasa  ranks  among  the 
greatest  princes  of  all  ages.  He  was  not  simply  acquainted 
with  the  common  turns  of  policy  by  which  mere  intriguers 
attain  their  end ;  but  rising,  as  great  men  are  wont  to  do, 
beyond  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  he  seems  to  have  em- 
braced ideas  of  public  economy  which  may  well  excite  our 
admiration,  since,  as  they  were  then  unknown  to  the  rest  of 
the  world,  they  must  have  been  the  product  of  his  own 
acuteness  and  ability.  Even  Gustavus  Vasa,  however, 
would  scarce  have  found  the  resources  with  which  his  genius 
furnished  him  sufficient,  had  not  the  Reformation  brought 
others  to  his  assistance,  upon  which  the  foundations  of  his 
greatness  may,  in  fact,  be  said  to  have  rested.  What,  in 
truth,  could  the  most  talented  prince  have  effected  on  a 
throne,  the  income  of  which  did  not  supply  a  third  part  of 
its  necessary  expenditure,  and  in  a  country  where  a  power- 
ful nobility  stood  side  by  side  with  a  still  more  powerful 
body  of  clergy,  whose  possessions  had  swallowed  up  the 
lands  of  the  crown,  and  which  was  likely  to  find  that  a 


272 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


native  sovereign  would  not  prove  the  best  instrument  for 
securing  and  extending  its  usurpations?  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances, a  mind  of  even  moderate  capacity  would  have 
perceived  that  the  Reformation  afforded  the  best  means  of 
securing  the  stability  of  the  government ;  but  the  difficulty 
in  this,  as  in  all  other  cases,  lay  in  the  execution ;  and  here 
it  was  that  the  superior  genius  of  Gustavus  displayed  itself. 
Too  weak  in  himself,  he  succeeded  in  gaining  over  the  no- 
bility by  the  prospect  of  large  acquisitions  from  the  forfeited 
estates  of  the  clergy ;  and  with  this  support  he  was  enabled 
to  meet  the  decisive  crisis  which  was  brought  on  at  the 
diet  of  Westeras,  (1527,)  and  which  terminated  in  the  sub- 
mission of  the  clergy  and  the  resignation  of  their  estates 
into  the  hands  of  the  king,  to  be  disposed  of  as  he  thought 
fit.  Conspiracies  and  tumults,  set  afoot  in  distant  parts  of 
the  kingdom,  remained  the  only,  and  impotent  means,  by 
which  they  sought  to  avenge  themselves. 

Thus  the  Reformation  also  established  a  new  order  of 
things  in  Sweden,  though  without  taking  from  the  clergy 
their  rights  as  an  estate  of  the  realm ;  and  exercised  a  de- 
cisive influence  upon  the  fate  of  this  kingdom,  and  through 
it  upon  that  of  the  North,  and  even  for  a  considerable  time 
upon  Europe  in  general.  There  now  wanted  only  the  he- 
reditary succession  of  the  crown,  which  Gustavus  Vasa  like- 
wise introduced,  to  put  means  at  the  disposal  of  the  kings 
of  Sweden,  by  which  they  might  attain  to  a  supremacy  of 
the  North,  which  would  in  turn  affect  the  rest  of  Europe. 
The  Reformation,  while  it  made  them  masters  in  the  North, 
opened  the  way  to  them,  as  its  champions,  of  acquiring  the 
supremacy  of  Europe,  Supported  by  their  own  genius, 
they  played  this  exaggerated  part  for  a  longer  time  than  the 
state  of  their  resources  would  have  led  us  to  expect.  The  con- 
sequences, which  resulted  from  this,  will  be  more  fully  deve- 
loped in  the  part  of  our  work  which  treats  of  the  influence 
of  tlie  Reformation  upon  the  political  balance  of  Europe. 

DENMARK. 

The  internal  condition  of  Denmark  bore,  at  this  period,  a 
great  resemblance  to  that  of  Sweden.  The  nobles  and 
priests  were  here  also  the  ruling  party,  and  gave  to  what 
was  then  an  electoral  kingdom,  more  the  appearance  of  an 


; 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


273 


aristocracy  than  of  a  monarchy.  The  dissolution  of  the 
Union  of  Calmar,  and  the  restoration  of  the  Swedish  throne, 
although  considered  as  losses  by  Denmark,  were  yet,  as 
soon  as  the  possession  of  Norway  was  secured  to  it,  perhaps 
as  great  advantages  to  this  country  as  to  Sweden  itself. 

The  kings  of  Denmark  had  hitherto  exhausted  themselves 
in  struggles,  for  the  most  part  fruitless,  to  secure  their  do- 
minion over  Sweden ;  and  the  disadvantages  of  these  wars 
were  naturally,  on  that  account,  much  greater  to  Denmark  than 
to  Sweden.  By  the  dissolution  of  the  Union  of  Calmar,  the 
former  was  restrained  within  its  true  sphere ;  and  after  a  few 
ineffectual  attempts  to  extend  itself  beyond  this,  it  was  taught 
to  prize  that  golden  mediocrity,  the  maintenance  of  which 
has  ever  since  proved  the  palladium  of  Danish  prosperity. 

The  Reformation  acquired  its  political  importance  in  Den- 
mark nearly  in  the  same  way  as  in  Sweden.  It  was  intro- 
duced very  early,  and  by  the  confiscation  of  the  estates  of 
the  clergy  gave  the  first  opportunity  of  extending  the  power 
of  the  crown.  But  although  Christian  III.  accomplished 
this  important  object,  the  aristocracy  was  much  less  broken 
down  in  Denmark  by  the  propagation  of  the  new  doctrines 
than  it  had  been  in  Sweden,  because  it  was  here  accom- 
plished without  the  aid  of  a  revolution.  Moreover,  the  king 
was  not  only  obliged  to  divide  the  estates  of  the  clergy  with 
the  nobility,  but  to  share  them  very  unequally.  He  received 
for  his  share  only  the  lesser  half,  the  demesnes  of  the  bishops; 
and  even  from  this  a  considerable  portion  was  deducted  for 
the  purpose  of  pious  foundations.  The  project  of  convert- 
ing the  electoral  into  an  hereditary  succession  was  not  m 
those  days  to  be  for  a  moment  entertained ;  on  the  contrary, 
every  change  of  government  produced  the  exaction  of  harder 
conditions  from  the  king.  Denmark  remained,  therefore, 
even  by  its  constitution,  much  behind  Sweden.  That  which 
was  rapidly  effected  in  Sweden  by  a  revolution,  was  slowly 
prepared  here  by  the  spirit  of  the  times. 

It  required  the  enterprising  reign  of  Christian  IV.,  and 
the  decisive  superiority  of  the  middle  orders  over  the  nobi- 
lity, to  obtain  the  adoption  of  that  constitution  which  Fre- 
deric III.  (1660)  introduced,  under  a  rare  combination  of 
fortunate  circumstances,  and  with  still  rarer  success  in  the 
resuU.     The  only  fundamental  articles  of  it,  were  the  here- 


I 


2U 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


275 


al 


ditary  succession  of  the  crown,  and  the  maintenance  of  the 
Lutheran  rehgion  as  that  of  the  state. 

POLAND. 

The  difference  between  the  language  of  Poland  and  that  of 
the  other  countries  of  western  Europe,  appeared  to  offer  an 
obstacle  to  the  progress  of  the  Reformation,  which  could  not 
easily  be  overcome.  The  Latin  language,  liowever,  then 
almost  universally  adopted  in  writing,  assisted  the  Reforma- 
tion in  this,  as  it  did  in  many  other  difficulties ;  and,  dur- 
ing the  latter  half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  although  somewhat 
later  than  in  the  other  countries  which  we  have  mentioned, 
the  new  doctrines  made  steady  and  even  bold  advances  here. 
Besides  the  evangelical  communion,  another,  viz.  that  of  the 
Socinians,  was  formally  established  in  Poland,  which,  al- 
though it  proceeded  from  the  former,  was  not  acknowledged 
by  it,  and  was  not  openly  tolerated  even  in  Germany.  The 
majority  of  the  nation  thus  separated  itself,  under  the  com- 
mon title  of  Dissenters,  from  the  ancient  Church,  which  was 
not,  however,  thereby  deprived  of  its  political  rights,  in  the 
undisputed  possession  and  exercise  of  which  it  was  allowed 
for  a  considerable  time  to  remain. 

We  might  perhaps  expect  to  find,  that  the  introduction 
of  this  new  body  of  ideas  had  assisted  the  march  of  national 
improvement,  and  that  the  rather,  because  the  difference  of 
opmion  between  the  Socinians  and  the  other  Protestants  ap- 
peared to  call  for  the  exercise  of  faculties,  which  would  na- 
turally tend  to  the  enlargement  of  the  mind.  But  as  the 
new  sects  here  neither  were,  nor  had,  in  the  beginning,  any 
occasion  to  become,  political  parties,  they  were  wanting  in 
that  principle  of  activity  which  gave  them  life  elsewhere : 
and  the  Reformation  stood  for  nothing  more  in  Poland,  than 
a  change  of  some  few  abstract  doctrines,  which  might  be 
amply  debated  upon  without  making  the  debaters  either 
wiser  or  more  enlightened.  There  was  here  therefore  a  total 
absence  of  that  wholesome  ferment  which  the  Reformation 
caused  in  other  countries ;  and  which,  finally,  after  the 
grosser  parts  had  been  worked  off,  produced  an  aggregate 
of  pure  truths  and  enlarged  views.  The  great  body  of  the 
people  was  thus  much  less  enlightened  by  the  Reformation 
ill  Poland  than  elsewhere  ;  and  it  was  on  that  account  a 


t    * 


very  dangerous  gift.  The  two  parties  hated  while  they  tole- 
rated each  other ;  and  there  only  wanted  a  spark  to  set 
men's  passion  on  fire,  and  kindle  such  a  flame  as  could  be 
extinguished  only  under  the  ruins  of  the  state. 

This  spark  fell  amongst  them  when  Charles  XIL,  a 
monarch  of  the  Lutheran  persuasion,  invaded  Poland  as  a 
conqueror,  and  formed  a  party  in  the  country  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  his  own  ambitious  designs.  Although  this 
faction  consisted  in  a  small  part  only  of  Dissenters,  it  was 
sufficient  that  any  of  them  supported  it,  to  make  their  op- 
ponents consider  the  name  of  Dissenter  synonymous  with 
that  of  a  partisan  of  Sweden ;  and  the  more  confined  their 
views,  the  more  violent  became  the  mutual  hatred  of  the 
parties,  which  naturally  pressed  with  greater  force  upon  the 
supporters  of  Charles  XIL,  as  soon  as  he  became  incapable 
of  defending  them. 

After  the  diet  in  the  year  1717,  when  the  Dissenters  were 
first  subjected  to  a  spoliation  of  their  public  rights,  the  pre- 
cedent was  never  left  unemployed,  even  when  there  could 
be  no  longer  question  of  a  Swedish  party  in  the  state.  The 
oppression  of  the  Dissenters  now  became  a  political  maxim  ; 
and,  under  the  skilful  direction  of  the  Jesuits,  it  was  pursued 
so  far  as  to  leave  them  nothing  besides  the  memory  of 
their  former  advantages,  except  fruitless  petitions  and 
complaints. 

Thus  the  storm  w^as  prepared  here  only  after  it  had  sub- 
sided in  other  quarters ;  and  the  consequences  were  easily 
to  be  foreseen.  In  a  country,  the  constitution  and  internal 
feuds  of  which  had  for  a  long  time  opened  the  way  to 
foreign  interference,  these  religious  contests  could  not  fail 
to  be  of  fatal  effect  as  soon  as  any  neighbouring  power 
learnt  how  to  employ  them.  Catharine  II.  soon  perceived 
the  advantages  which  she  might  derive  from  them ;  and 
under  the  pretext  of  'protecting  the  Dissenters  laid  the 
foundation  (1766)  of  the  Russian  power  in  Poland. 

Shall  I  describe  the  further  series  of  events,  the  consecu- 
tive scenes  of  that  national  tragedy?  Shall  I  recall  the 
madness  of  the  civil  war,  the  insolence  of  the  oppressor,  the 
violation  of  the  rights  of  the  people,  the  persecutions,  such 
as  no  nation  has  endured  since  the  fall  of  Carthage  ?  The 
cabinets  of  Europe  have  already  too  sore  a  testimony  against 


T  2 


2T6 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


them,  in  the  cries  of  the  victim  which  they  offered  up  in 
Prague  as  a  sacrifice  to  their  unhallowed  policy. 

The  reader  will  rather  turn  his  eyes  in  sorrow  from  that 
desolating  scene,  and  let  them  rest  upon  the  cheering 
prospect  which  is  presented  by  the  restoration,  even  though 
partial,  of  this  shattered  state,  and  its  establishment  under  a 
better  constitution. 

THE  OTHER  COUNTRIES  OF  EUROPE. 

The  countries  which  we  have  hitherto  mentioned  complete 
the  sphere  over  which  the  revolution  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury extended  its  influence.  Bursting  forth  in  Germany, 
the  central  point  of  Europe,  it  shook  all  around  it  with  the 
violence  of  an  earthquake.  Still,  however,  there  were  coun- 
tries in  this  quarter  of  the  world  in  which  its  impulse  could 
not  be  felt ;  and  it  is  the  more  interesting  to  examine  these, 
because  the  Reformation,  if  not  positively  important,  was 
negatively  so  to  several  of  them. 

While  Russia,  for  the  reasons  which  we  have  stated  above, 
was  uninfluenced  by  it  in  the  east  of  Europe,  Spain  and 
Portugal  were  equally  so  in  the  west,  and  Italy  in  the  south. 
The  geographical  situation  of  these  countries  will  not  afford 
a  sufficient  explanation  of  this  phenomenon  ;  mountains  and 
plains  are  no  barriers  to  the  progress  of  opinion. 

It  is  true,  the  strict  vigilance  of  the  Spanish  government 
made  it  difficult  for  the  new  doctrines  to  gain  admittance 
there ;  but  in  Italy  the  Inquisition  held  out  no  such  terrors 
as  in  Spain  ;  and  who,  moreover,  will,  in  these  days,  doubt 
that  all  the  bulwarks  of  spiritual  and  worldly  policy  are  too 
feeble  to  restrain  the  current  of  ideas  ?  The  causes  of  it  lie 
deeper,  and  can  only  be  explained  by  the  individual  charac- 
ters of  these  nations.  The  old  religion  was  one  evidently 
designed  rather  for  the  feelings  than  the  reason  of  its  follow- 
ers ;  the  new,  while  it  rested  every  thing  upon  a  change  in 
doctrinal  points,  and  withdrew  all  that  might  affect  the 
senses  from  its  form  of  worship,  appealed  for  its  influence  to 
the  understanding,  and  despoiled  both  fancy  and  feeling 
almost  wholly  of  their  idols.  It  was  suited  to  the  North,  but 
not  to  the  South.  The  calm  and  investigating  spirit  of  the 
German  nations  found  in  it  the  nourishment  which  it  re- 
quired and  sought  for;  and  hence  the  geographical  hmits 


i 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


217 


I 


'■■d 


of  these,  from  the  coasts  of  Scotland  and  Norway  to  the 
Helvetian  Alps,  formed  in  their  chief  extept  the  limits  of  the 
Reformation.  The  more  vivid  imagination  and  sensitive 
feelings  of  the  people  of  the  South,  especially  of  the  softer 
sex,  found  little  to  please  them  in  its  tenets.  Who  would 
seek  to  deprive  the  women  of  Spain  and  Italy  of  their  Ma- 
donna and  their  saints  ?  The  attempt  would  be  a  vain  one, 
or,  if  successful,  with  these  accessories  of  religion,  their 
consolation  and  their  peace  would  vanish  also : 

Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wiseJ 

It  was  not,  therefore,  owing  to  the  prohibitions  of  the 
government,  but  to  the  character  of  the  nations  themselves, 
that  the  Reformation  found  no  support  among  them.  Whe- 
ther this  was  their  gain  or  their  loss  can  hardly  now  be  a 
question.  By  their  almost  total  exclusion  from  that  great 
ferment  of  ideas,  which  in  other  countries  of  civilized 
Europe  gave  activity  and  life  to  the  human  intellect,  they 
were  thrown  behind  the  general  progress  of  this  quarter  of 
the  world ;  and  thus,  while  the  example  of  Poland  affords 
from  amidst  its  ruins  a  warning,  that  patriotism  and  the 
most  heroic  spirit  are  but  feeble  supports  to  a  nation,  unless 
guided  by  national  improvement,  these  countries  teach  the 
not  less  important  truth,  that  it  may  not  in  the  end  prove 
so  advantageous  to  a  state  to  have  escaped  the  storms  of  a 
revolution,  as  those  who  are  the  witnesses  of  it  commouly 
believe. 


SECOND  PART. 

DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  REFORMATION  UPON 

THE  GENERAL  POLITICS  OF  EUROPE. 

The  view  which  we  have  presented  of  the  influence  exer- 
cised by  the  Reformation  upon  the  individual  condition  and 
constitution  of  nearly  all  the  countries  of  Europe,  will  assist 
us  m  the  more  general  consideration  of  its  effects  upon  the 
politics  of  Europe  as  a  body, 

*  (Ein  wahn  der  uns  begliickt 
1st  eine  wahrheit  werth,  die  uns  zu  boden  driickt.) 


278 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


The  interests  which  it  called  into  life  continued  for  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half  to  act  as  the  mainspring  of  European  poli- 
tics ;  and  when,  in  the  age  of  Lewis  XIV.,  these  gave  way 
to  others — those  of  commerce — their  impulse  was  weakened 
only  by  degrees,  and  carried  its  operations  even  into  the 
eighteenth  century. 

I  propose  to  consider  this  extensive  subject,  in  its  main 
features  at  least,  under  three  points  of  view.  1st,  As  to  the 
organization  of  society  in  general.  2ndly,  With  regard  to 
the  political  balance  or  mutual  relations  of  the  states.  3rdly, 
As  to  commerce  and  the  colonial  system. 

I.  The  effects  of  the  Reformation  upon  the  organization 
of  society. 

It  is  impossible  that  an  event  of  such  great  practical  im- 
portance as  the  Reformation,  should  have  taken  place  with- 
out causing  considerable  changes  in  the  constitution  of  civil 
society.  The  fall  of  the  papal  hierarchy  was  of  itself  suffi- 
cient for  this  in  the  countries  which  adopted  the  new  doc- 
trines. But  there  were  other  and  more  distant  consequences, 
which  were  at  first  perhaps  beyond  the  reach  of  calculation. 

a  he  first  and  almost  inevitable  effect  of  the  Reformation 
a  civil  society  in  general,  was,  that  Religion  became  a 
part  of  the  constitutional  basis  of  all  governments.  In  the 
middle  ages  the  Catholic  religion  was  universally  dominant, 
but  the  constitution  was  no  where  expressly  founded  upon  it; 
there  was  no  where  a  direct  law  that  it  should  be  the  religion 
of  the  state ;  that  its  rulers  should  acknowledge  no  other. 
Although  Dissenters  were  not  tolerated,  and  heretics,  as  they 
were  termed,  were  persecuted,  this  was  no  immediate  affair 
of  the  state,  but  of  the  Church  and  its  superior ;  if  the  state 
concerned  itself  in  it,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Waldenses  in 
France,  it  was  only  at  the  desire  of  the  latter.  But  when  by 
the  Reformation  the  interests  of  pohtics  and  religion  became 
mutually  involved,  this  condition  of  things  was  altered. 

In  the  countries  which  had  embraced  Protestantism,  the 
new  religion  was  almost  universally  declared  to  be  that  of 
the  state  ;  not  only  were  its  professors  alone  allowed  the  free 
exercise  of  their  rites,  but  many  offices  unconnected  with 
religion,  as  well  as  the  right  of  sitting  in  the  assemblies  of 
the  nation,  were  confined  to  them ;  in  many  it  was  made  a 
necessary  condition  of  accession  to  the  throne. 


H] 


it 


^. 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


279 


The  same  thing  took  place  in  the  Catholic  states;  and 
wherever  the  question  was  doubtful  it  was  formally  deter- 
mined by  treaties  and  articles  of  peace,  which  were  often 
dearly  purchased. 

It  is  true  that  the  Christian  religion  is,  by  its  doctrines, 
totally  unconnected  with  politics.  It  merely  inculcates  sub- 
mission to  existing  authority,  and  decides  nothing,  as  to  the 
constitution  of  states,  with  preference  of  any  particular  form. 
Nor  did  any  of  the  parties  into  which  its  advocates  were  se- 
parated by  the  Reformation,  introduce  the  subject  into  their 
doctrinal  canons;  and  although  the  more  democratical  church 
government  of  the  Lutherans,  and  especially  of  the  stricter 
sects,  appeared  to  be  favourable  to  republicanism,  this  had 
no  necessary  connexion  with  the  affairs  of  the  state,  nor 
could  have,  except  under  temporary  circumstances. 

Experience  has,  in  fact,  abundantly  shown,  that  the  most 
absolute  monarchy,  as  well  as  the  freest  republic,  are  alike 
compatible  either  with  Catholicism  or  Protestantism.  The 
more  unphilosophical,  therefore,  must  that  policy  appear 
which  required  that  one  or  other  of  these  should  form  the 
basis  of  government,  and  thus  breathed  a  spirit  of  intoler- 
ance into  the  nations  of  Europe,  for  which  they  have  been 
obliged,  even  in  our  days,  dearly  to  atone.  Although  heretics 
were  no  longer  brought  to  the  stake,  was  it  not  sufficiently 
degrading  to  be  reduced  into  an  inferior  caste  by  the  mere 
tenure  of  a  few  opinions  ?  Was  it  not  in  the  eye  of  reason 
more  than  strange  that  a  man  might  or  might  not  hold  the 
lowest  constable's  office,  in  this  place  or  that,  according  as 
he  believed,  or  disbelieved,  the  doctrine  of  transubstanti- 
ation?  An  impartial  observer,  however,  will  attach  less 
blame  to  those  who  established  such  institutions,  than  to 
those  who  allowed  them  to  continue  without  any  necessity. 
It  is  easy  to  perceive,  that  at  the  time  of  their  origin  they 
were  the  result  of  unavoidable  circumstances.  As  soon  and 
as  long  as  religious  parties  combine  a  political  character 
with  their  other  and  more  peculiar  one,  it  is  under  this  cha- 
racter that  the  state  must  contemplate  them  ;  and  the  exclu- 
sion of  religious  Dissenters,  if  not  from  the  state  altogether, 
at  least  from  all  active  share  in  its  administration,  may  be  a 
requisite  security.  But  what  was  absolutely  necessary  at 
one  time  does  not  continue  so  for  ever;    and  we  might 


N 


) 


280 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


therefore  expect  that  the  severity  of  these  aws  should  have 
been  gradually  diminished,  even  though  there  might  have 
been  some  hesitation  in  doing  them  away  at  once  and  alto- 

^^And  yet  it  needed  a  new  revolution  to  induce  the  adop- 
tion of  these  views  by  several  of  the  first  nations  of  Europe, 
and  amone  them,  by  our  own.   And  can  any  one  acquaint- 
ed with  the  progress  of  events  expect  that  even  now  this 
example  will  be  followed  by  all;  even  the  /2W  constitution 
of  Spain  strictly  forbids  the  exercise  of  every  form  of  wor- 
ship  except  the  Catholic.     There  certainly  exists  no  truth 
more  simple,  than,  that  every  one  is  justly  entitled  to  adore 
his  God  after  his  own  manner ;  and,  that  the  state  requires 
a  religion,  but  not  that  it  should  be  established  as  that  ot 
the  state  '  The  simplest  truths,  however,  are  those  ot  which 
men  are  in  general  least  easily  convinced,  because  they  are 
usually  opposed  to  prejudices,  and  still  more  because  they 
clash  with  interests.     But  obstinately  to  refuse  conviction 
even  after  they  have  become  the  prevalent  ideas  ot  the  day, 
can  be  termed  nothing  else  than  to  begin  a  contest  with  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  the  issue  of  which  will  in  all  probability 

be  fatal.  ,       v  •    i  ^  ^f 

A  second  and  not  less  general  political  consequence  ot 

the  Reformation  was,  The  extension  and  increase  of  the 
power  of  the  princes  of  Europe. 

We  include  this  among  the  most  general  consequences, 
because  it  displayed  itself  not  only  in  those  countries  which 
adopted,  but  also  in  those  which  rejected,  the  Protestant 

doctrines.  i    •     j  r 

In  the  former  this  increase  of  power  was  derived  from 
several  sources.  In  the  first  place,  the  revenues  of  the  princes 
were  undoubtedly  augmented  by  the  confiscation  o  church 
property.  But,  with  the  exception  of  Sweden,  this  aug- 
mentation could  hardly  exercise  any  considerab  e  influence 
upon  the  great  states  of  Europe.  This  was  partly  owing  to 
the  character  of  the  princes  themselves ;  and  partly  to  the 
absence  of  all  th(^se  g^eral  ideas  on  political  economy  by 

•  It  is  here  that  the  real  question  arises— If  the  state  requires  a  religion, 
r;.n  this  be  better  secured  than  by  an  established  church  ?  Professor  Heeren 
L\ms  to'hiK^^^  but  hJhas  here  treated  the  subject  too  vaguely  to 

admit  of  our  judging  upon  what  grounds  his  opinion  is  formed.     1 R. 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


281 


which  it  might  have  been  turned  to  advantage.  Henry 
VIII.,  who  was  the  chief  gainer,  dissipated  his  large  reve- 
nues without  aim  or  method.  In  Denmark  the  kings  were 
obliged  to  resign  the  better  portion  to  their  nobility ;  and 
the  majority  of  the  German  princes  were  noble-minded 
enough  to  apply  the  forfeited  property  of  the  Church  to  the 
foundation  of  useful  establishments,  especially  of  those  for 
public  education. 

The  fall  of  the  hierarchy,  however,  was  of  itself  sufficient 
to  make  way  for  an  increase  of  power  in  the  princes.  From 
this  time  forth  no  exemptions  could  be  claimed,  no  papal  or 
episcopal  jurisdiction  exercised  within  their  dominions,  un- 
less by  their  permission.  Foreign  interference,  which  had 
been  so  especially  formidable  to  the  weaker  princes,  now 
ceased  altogether,  and  they  were  left  sole  masters  over  their 
own  people.  But  the  chief  cause  of  their  increase  of  power 
lay  still  deeper,  and  was  common  alike  to  the  Catholic  and 
the  Protestant  princes.  The  increased  activity  which  the 
religious  and  political  interests  of  the  Reformation  had  called 
forth,  necessarily  tended  to  enlarge  their  sphere  of  action, 
even  though  there  was  no  express  provision  to  that  effect 
introduced  into  the  constitution.  The  influence  of  the  Re- 
formation in  this  respect  upon  the  German  princes,  and 
upon  the  empire,  has  been  noticed  above.  No  previous 
sovereign  of  England  had  possessed  such  absolute  power  as 
Elizabeth ;  we  have  seen  that  the  autocracy  of  the  French 
monarchs  was  grounded  upon  the  fall  of  the  Hugonots ; 
while  the  national  freedom  of  Spain  may  be  fairly  said  to 
have  owed  its  ruin  to  the  continual  wars  in  which  its  kings 
were  engaged,  as  defenders  of  the  ancient  faith,  and  to  the 
royal  Inquisition  which  they  established. 

In  this  way  the  Reformation  created  a  new  order  of  things 
in  Europe.  Its  princes,  by  becoming  masters  of  their  own 
dominions,  through  the  cessation  of  the  feuds  in  which  they 
had  previously  been  engaged,  found  themselves  in  a  situation 
to  extend  their  views  to  other  countries,  and  upon  this 
foundation  the  subsequent  structure  of  European  politics 
was  raised. 

A  third  change,  of  great  importance  to  the  condition  of 
civil  society,  was  brought  about,  in  the  Protestant  states  at 
least,  by  the  altered  position  of  the  clergy.     It  is  true,  that 


282 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


283 


even  in  these  countries  they  had  by  no  means  wliolly  lost 
their  political  influence.  The  Reformation  being  in  its  fun- 
damental character  a  doctrinal  revolution,  and  the  first  ques- 
tion, in  the  half  political,  half  theological,  disputes  to  which 
it  gave  rise,  being  as  to  the  admission  or  rejection  of  particu- 
lar articles  of  belief,  the  divines  became  indispensable  to  the 
princes,  and  were  frequently  adopted  as  their  counsellors, 
and  even  ministers,  although  with  no  direct  title  as  such. 
It  requires  but  a  slight  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  to  be  aware  of  the  per- 
nicious consequences  which  resulted,  in  many  instances, 
from  the  blind  enthusiasm  of  these  zealots,  who  were  too 
frequently  wont  to  consult  their  passions  in  the  counsels 
which  they  gave.  Still,  however,  an  impartial  judge  will 
not  deny  that,  on  the  whole,  the  clergy  were  brought  nearer 
to  their  proper  character  of  teachers  of  the  people,  by  the 
Reformation ;  and  even  in  Catholic  states  it  can  hardly  now 
be  doubted,  that  by  the  expulsion  of  the  spiritual  orders, 
especially  of  that  of  the  mendicant-friars,  a  very  considerable 
evil  was  removed. 

It  is  true  that  another  order  took  the  place  of  these  im- 
mediately on  their  destruction,  which,  like  the  growth  of  the 
ivy  upon  the  oak,  gradually  wound  itself  round  almost  every 
branch  of  the  European  system,  and  was  even  powerful 
enough  to  bend  many  of  them  to  its  purpose ;  the  society 
of  the  Jesuits,  however,  although  it  might  not  have  arisen 
had  the  Reformation  not  taken  place,  yet  owed  its  first  pro- 
gress to  the  missions  in  which  it  was  concerned.  Any  at- 
tempt to  point  out  the  advantage  which  it  afterwards  derived 
from  these,  would  be  as  vain  as  the  expectation  of  those  who 
believe  that  with  the  restoration  of  the  order  its  former  in- 
fluence would  be  restored.  The  great  law  of  the  material 
world — that  "  bodies  once  moved  do  not  return  to  the  same 
place  under  the  same  conditions" — is  equally  binding  upon 
the  political.  But,  besides  these,  there  were  other  effects  of 
the  Reformation  upon  society,  which  although  more  distant 
were  also  far  more  important ;  their  visible  connexion  with 
religion  being,  however,  slight,  it  must  be  judged  of  only  by 
the  results. 

As  it  was  the  Reformation  which  first  breathed  a  spirit 
of  activity  into  men's  minds,  it  was  natural  that  this  should 


be  directed  to  subjects  in  immediate  connexion  with  it,  and 
religion  thus  became  the  favourite  topic  of  debate.  But  as 
with  activity  a  feeling  of  independence  and  a  fondness  for 
inquiry  were  also  produced,  the  powers  which  had  been 
called  into  existence  were  soon  engaged  upon  other  pursuits ; 
the  horizon  had  been  expanded  in  every  direction ;  and 
amidst  the  freedom  of  opinion  thus  created,  whatever  bore 
upon  civil  society,  its  constitution,  and  perfection,  became 
the  subject  of  universal  attention.  In  this.  Protestantism 
was  undeniably  far  advanced  beyond  Catholicism. 

The  great  question,  as  to  the  relations  in  which  the  go- 
vernment and  the  people  should  stand  to  each  other,  re- 
ceived its  first  practical  answer  in  the  Protestant  countries 
of  Europe ;  and  amidst  all  the  modifications  which  the  forms 
of  their  constitutions  assumed,  it  was  in  them  for  the  first 
time  plainly  perceived  that  the  interests  of  the  rulers  and 
the  subjects  are  one  and  the  same.  Up  to  the  Reformation 
these  had  been  formally  distinct  in  all  the  great  states  of 
Europe ;  the  people  appeared  to  exist  only  that  they  might 
furnish  taxes ;  the  government,  that  it  might  indulge  its  ca- 
prices; even  the  internal  policy  of  Lewis  XII.,  although 
justly  appreciated,  was  directed  rather  by  his  heart  than  his 
head,  and  remained  in  those  times  without  imitators.  But 
the  Reformation,  by  restoring  the  freedom  of  men's  minds, 
imparted  to  them  a  loftier  character ;  and  laid  the  found- 
ations  of  that  nobler  political  freedom,  which  may  be  as  per- 
fectly coexistent  with  the  most  absolute  monarchy  as  with  a 
republic  ;  because  it  depends  not  upon  the  form  of  the  con- 
stitution, but  upon  the  spirit  of  the  government  and  of  the 
nation.  The  rejection  of  the  maxim,  that  the  people  were 
to  be  considered  merely  as  instruments,  and  the  open  ac- 
knowledgment on  the  part  of  the  chief  Protestant  princes, 
that  they  enjoyed  their  dignity  solely  for  the  advantage  of 
the  people,  gave  rise  to  that  more  perfect  system  of  political 
economy,  by  which,  as  a  general  feature,  the  majority  of  the 
Protestant  states  have  been  distinguished  above  the  Catholic. 

However  absurd  it  would  be  to  attempt  to  point  out  in 
the  Protestant  religion,  the  causes  of  the  erection  of  such 
governments  as  those  of  Great  Britian  and  of  Prussia,  it  is 
equally  certain  that,  without  Protestantism,  such  constitutions 
and  such  modes  of  administration  could   never  have  been 


f 


1 


284 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


285 


formed.  To  it,  in  fact,  belongs  the  first  vigorous  exertions 
of  which  the  human  intellect  became  capable,  when  it  had 
shaken  off  the  fetters  which  had  so  long  crippled  and  re- 
strained it.  It  is  true,  that  these  examples  were  not  lost 
upon  several  of  the  Catholic  states ;  but  we  may  fairly  say, 
that,  when  they  discovered  the  need  they  had  of  such  insti- 
tutions, they  resorted  to  their  Protestant  neighbours  as  pos- 
sessing the  models  which  they  should  imitate.  Did  not  the 
immortal  Colbert  form  his  views  upon  the  policy  which  he 
saw  pursued  in  the  Netherlands  ?  Did  not  Joseph  II.  aim  at 
rivalling  the  example  set  before  him  by  Frederic  the  Great  ? 
Was  not  the  progress  of  civil  society  among  the  small  states 
of  Protestant  Germany  far  beyond  that  of  Catholic  Italy  ? 
Was  there,  before  the  time  of  Leopold  II., — who,  by  his 
institutions  in  Tuscany,  opened  a  path  which  the  character 
of  the  nation  has  prevented  it  from  pursuing, — was  there,  I 
say,  a  single  state  in  Italy  of  which  it  could  be  said,  that  its 
mode  of  government  had  become  sensibly  improved  ?  It  is 
in  vain  to  seek  an  explanation  of  these  phenomena  in 
chance,  or  in  the  character  of  the  princes.  The  means  of 
acquiring  knowledge  and  experience  were  too  ample,  the 
succession  of  princes  too  long,  to  allow  of  such  solutions  of 
the  problem. 

It  was  Protestantism  which,  although  slowly,  yet  surely, 
shed  these  blessings  over  the  human  race.  And  if  Great 
Britian  has  prevented  the  love  of  constitutional  liberty  from 
becoming  wholly  extinct ;  and,  by  its  victory  over  the  ad- 
verse elements  of  society,  has  become  the  model  upon  which, 
with  certain  varieties,  the  states  of  the  continent  are  at  this 
moment  forming  their  governments,  has  not  all  this  been 
produced  by  the  same  cause  ?  Would  Spain,  even  that  Spain 
which  most  rigidly  excludes  Protestantism,  ever  have  re- 
ceived her  new  constitution  without  it  ?  And  would  not  this 
very  constitution  have  been,  in  all  human  probability,  more 
usefully  and  excellently  framed,  had  the  light  of  Protestant- 
ism shone  down  undimmed  upon  her  people  ? 

II.  Effects  of  the  Reformation  upon  the  mutual  relations 
of  the  states  of  Europe, 

All  other  changes  which  the  Reformation  may  have  pro- 
duced in  the  social  condition  of  the  nations  of  Europe,  have 
reference  to  the  extension  of  their  ideas,  and  are,  therefore. 


beyond  the  limits  of  this  treatise.  We  proceed,  then,  to  the 
examination  of  our  second  question :  viz.  In  what  manner 
did  it  acquire  an  influence  upon  the  mutual  relations  of  the 
states  of  Europe ;  or,  in  other  words,  upon  the  system  of  a 
political  balance  of  power? 

As  this  influence,  however,  was  not  always  of  the  same 
importance,  nor  of  the  same  kind,  it  is  requisite  to  a  clear 
view  of  the  subject,  that  we  should  divide  it  into  several 
periods.  And  we  shall  hereafter  see,  that,  in  almost  every 
case,  the  middle  and  the  end  of  the  century  afford  data  for 
our  division ;  not  merely  in  point  of  time,  but  according  to 
distinctions  in  the  subject  itself  We  shall  thus  have  Jive 
periods,  of  which  the  first  will  embrace  the  times  of  Charles 
V.  and  Francis  I.,  or  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century ; 
the  second,  those  of  Philip  II.  and  Elizabeth,  or  the  latter 
half  of  the  same  century  ; — the  third,  those  of  Richelieu  and 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  being  that  of  the  thirty  years'  war,  or 
the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  ; — the  fourth,  those  of  Lewis 
XIV.  and  William  III.,  or  the  second  half  of  that  century ; 
— while  the  last,  in  which  there  is  no  need  of  accurate  divi- 
sion, will  take  in  the  eighteenth  century  generally. 

FIRST  PERIOD,  I517-I556. 

After  the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the 
states  of  Europe,  by  interweaving  their  interests,  and  by  the 
alliances  and  counter-alliances  which  were  thus  caused, 
formed  a  political  system  in  a  much  higher  sense  of  the  word 
than  had  been  the  case  during  the  middle  ages.  The  in- 
crease of  civilization,  by  creating  so  many  new  sources  of 
excitement,  necessarily  causes  a  greater  complication  of  re- 
lations among  the  states  which  it  affetits,  and  is  of  itself  suf- 
ficient to  produce  that  character  of  unity,  which  gives  an 
interest  to  the  history  of  modern  Europe.  In  an  aggregate 
of  states,  too,  such  as  the  European,  the  pi^inciple  of  a 
balance  of  poiver  became  the  more  speedily  developed,  on 
account  of  the  great  diflferences  of  strength  which  existed 
amongst  them.  It  was  the  immediate  interest  of  all  to  pre- 
vent any  single  state  from  acquiring  such  a  pre-eminence 
as  would  enable  it  to  prescribe  laws  to  the  rest;  and  in  such 
a  case,  the  more  unequal  the  power  of  the  individual  mem- 
bers, the  more  frequent  are  the  alliances ;  and,  consequently. 


286 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


287 


the  more  complicated  and  firmer  the  mutual  connexion  of 
the  states.     In  a  system  of  this  kind,  the  most  powerful  is 
taught,  that  the  oppression  or  annihilation  of  a  weaker  state 
but  one  which  it  finds  a  useful  ally,  is  far  from  being  a 
matter  of  indifference ;  and  thus  states  of  the  second,  or 
even  of  the  third  order,  become  elevated  to  a  degree  of 
political  importance  which  they  could  not  otherwise  attain ; 
and  which  is  the  security  upon  which  their  very  existence 
depends.     Mere  selfishness  must  thus  yield  to  policy ;  and 
since  the  most  gifted  men  of  our  own  times  have  recognised 
the  necessity  of  restoring,  as  far  as  possible,  the  shattered 
edifice  which  the  storms  of  the  revolution  shook  to  the  earth, 
the  author  who  treats  of  it  can  hardly  venture  to  doubt  that 
it  is  the  only  one  worthy  of  an  enlightened  age. 

The  Reformation,  for  a  considerable  time,  exercised  the 
principal  influence  upon  the  workings  of  this  system,  al- 
though it  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  the  original  cause  of 
its  existence.    The  idea  of  a  balance  of  power  was  spread 
over  Europe,  with  other  political  notions,  by  the  Italians, 
among  whose  states — perfectly  independent  as  they  were 
up  to  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century— it  had  been  planted, 
watched  over,  and  brought  to  maturity,  and  then  again  suf- 
fered to  decay  and  become  useless ;  but  the  almost  incredi- 
ble vacillation,  which  the  general  policy  of  the  first  fifteen 
years  of  the  sixteenth  century  shows  to  have  prevailed,  is  an 
evidence  that  the  science  was  as  yet  without  sure  founda- 
tions, and  that  the  main  principles  of  the  practical  politics 
of  Europe  were  still  undermined.     The  history  of  no  other 
era  presents  such  a  web  of  projects  and  counter-projects,  of 
alliances  and  counter-alliances;  but  it  is  not  improbable  that 
this  ver}^  abundance  was  a  token  that  the  want  of  more  se- 
cure principles  was  felt,  while  these  were  the  only  remedies 
which  could  be  applied ;  and  thus  the  political  system  of 
that  day  may  be  likened  to  an  unwieldy  mass,  whose  centre 
of  gravity  has  not  yet  been  ascertained.   The  sudden  rise  of 
the  house  of  Hapsburg,  by  the  union  of  the  imperial  throne 
and    the    most    important   Austrian    possessions   with    the 
Spanish  monarchy,   put   an  end  to  this  vacillation.    The 
character  which  France  was  destined  to  support  in  the  ge- 
neral scheme  of  European  politics,  was  now  at  once  deter- 
mined ;  the  rivalry  of  Francis  I.  and  Charles  V.  laid  the 


*1 


A 


foundation-stone  of  the  system  of  the  balance  of  power ; 
while  the  policy  of  Henry  VIII.,  whose  vanity  was  busied 
with  the  idea  that  he  should  be  able  to  decide  the  strife  be- 
tween the  rivals,  and  the  much  more  permanently  important 
alliance  made  by  Francis  I.,  as  early  as  1530,  with  the  Porte, 
gave  it  an  extent  which  embraced  Europe  from  one  end  to 
the  other.  Thus  the  emulation  of  the  two  chief  powers  of 
the  continent  lent  the  first  impulse  to  general  politics,  and 
has  continued  to  influence  them,  although  with  occasional 
interruptions  of  its  force. 

Down  to  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  Reform- 
ation cannot  be  said  to  have  interfered  materially  in  de- 
termining the  relative  position  of  these  great  powers,  or  in 
advancing  the  political  system  of  which  we  speak.  The  in- 
effectual efforts  of  Francis  I.  to  draw  the  members  of  the 
league  of  Smalcald  over  to  his  interest,  hardly  deserve  to  be 
noticed.  But  still,  as  even  during  that  period  the  Reforma- 
tion, in  a  certain  degree,  founded  two  new  powers — Sweden 
and  Prussia — which  were  destined  afterwards  to  rank  among 
the  most  important  members  of  the  European  body  of  states, 
it  thus  prepared  the  way  for  a  future  development  of  the 
system.  The  new  life  which  it  breathed  into  the  German 
empire  was  of  much  more  immediate  importance:  for  as  the 
Protestant  princes  were  obliged  to  unite  in  opposition  to  the 
emperor  and  his  supporters,  a  political  balance  was  estab- 
lished, which,  as  we  have  before  said,  remained  for  a  long 
time  the  principle  of  life  upon  which  that  body  depended, 
while  it  exercised  a  most  decisive  influence  upon  the  politi- 
cal system  of  Europe  in  general.  Statesmen  of  enlightened 
views  soon  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  disturbance  of 
the  balance  of  power  in  Germany,  by  the  suppression  of  the 
Protestant  party,  would  afford  the  house  of  Austria  an  op- 
portunity of  acquiring  the  supremacy  in  that  country,  and 
thus  entail  the  disturbance  of  the  political  balance  of  Europe 
itself;  this  is  amply  proved  by  the  share  taken  by  Sweden 
and  France  in  the  thirty  years'  war,  and,  at  a  still  earlier 
period,  by  the  alliance  between  Henry  II.  and  Maurice  of 
Saxony. 

The  reason  why  the  Reformation  did  not,  and  could  not, 
acquire  any  immediate  influence  over  the  politics  of  Europe 
was  evidently  this,  that  neither  of  the  great  powers  before 


288 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


mentioned  espoused  its  cause.  Had  Francis  I.  allowed  it  a 
free  entrance  into  France,  had  the  Protestant  doctrines  be- 
come prevalent  in  that  kingdom,  then  the  limits  of  the  reli- 
gious differences  throughout  Europe  would  have  decided 
those  of  the  political.  But  as  this  was  not  the  case,  the 
rivalry  between  France  and  the  house  of  Hapsburg  afforded 
the  Reformation  no  opportunity  of  acquiring  influence  from 
the  struggle.  In  order  to  make  it  the  mainspring  of  Euro- 
pean politics  other  circumstances  were  necessary ;  and  these 
the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  produced.  These 
may  be  easily  seen  in  the  Revolution  of  the  Netherlands, 
and  the  Introduction  of  a  new  Rule  of  Faith  into  England. 
Both  of  these,  however,  as  well  in  point  of  time  as  of  their 
reaction  upon  the  rest  of  Europe,  are  so  closely  connected 
that  they  do  not  admit  of  a  separate  consideration. 

SECOND  PERIOD,  1556—1603. 

No  other  event  of  this  period  acquired  so  rapid,  so  great, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  durable,  an  influence  upon  the  ge- 
neral politics  of  Europe,  as  the  Revolution  of  the  United 
Netherlands. 

Its  origin  may  be  reckoned  among  the  consequences  of 
the  Reformation. 

The  limited  abilities  of  Philip  II.  would  not  allow  of  his 
raising  himself  above  the  prejudices  of  his  education  and  his 
age ;  his  pride  and  tyranny  would  not  be  satisfied  with  the 
use  of  any  but  violent  means ;  while  his  unwearied  activity 
served  only  to  fan  the  flame  which  it  sought  to  extinguish. 

Thus  he  was  himself  the  founder  of  the  new  republic, 
and  here,  as  elsewhere,  freedom  was  the  child  of  despotism! 

From  the  very  first  this  revolution  acquired,  not  merely 
a  political  tendency,  but  one  which  was  directed  towards 
the  general  politics  of  Europe.  The  insurgents  had  to  sus- 
tam  a  contest  with  one  of  the  first  powers  of  Europe ;  and 
although  an  impartial  historian  cannot  deny  them  the  credit 
of  having  made  good  their  own  cause  by  their  own  strength, 
yet  they  were  themselves  very  far  from  being  convinced  of 
the  possibility  of  so  doing,  and  believed  themselves  obliged 
to  look  around  for  assistance  from  without.  By  their  deal- 
ings with  France  and  England— and  in  neither  case  were 
these  dealings  without  results,  (though  more  effectual  in  the 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


289 


latter  than  in  the  former) — the  interests  of  the  scarce-formed 
republic  became  interwoven  with  those  of  the  chief  powers 
of  Europe ;  and  born,  like  Minerva,  with  arms  in  its  hand, 
like  Minerva,  too,  it  at  once  took  its  seat  in  the  council  of 
the  gods. 

By  the  intervention  of  foreign  powers  in  the  Netherlands, 
a  new  political  system  was  formed  in  the  west  of  Europe. 
Had  not  France  been  occupied  by  its  religious  wars  at 
home,  which  made  it  impossible  for  her  kings,  of  themselves 
too  weak,  to  take  an  effectual  share  in  the  disputes  of  other 
states,  she  would  have  found  no  difficulty  in  uniting  the  new 
republic  with  herself  by  secure  ties ;  as  this,  however,  was 
not  done,  Elizabeth  reaped  the  advantage  of  the  situation  in 
which  her  neighbours  were  placed. 

As  she  had  herself  restored  the  Protestant  religion  in  Eng- 
land, and  had  founded  her  power  upon  its  maintenance, 
her  interests  accorded  with  those  of  the  Netherlands  on  this 
important  point;  and  an  alliance  between  the  two  states 
might,  under  these  circumstances,  be  naturally  expected. 
But  however  much  we  may  admire  the  prudence  and  mo- 
deration which  Elizabeth  displayed  in  this  most  brilliant 
portion  of  her  reign,  it  was  yet  impossible  for  her  fully  to 
determine  the  ultimate  consequences  of  her  acts.  As  the 
most  powerful  of  the  Protestant  princes  of  Europe,  she  was 
universally  considered  the  champion  of  that  religion  ;  while 
Philip  II.  was,  on  the  other  hand,  acknowledged  as  the  de- 
fender of  the  Catholic  faith.  Thus  religion  and  politics 
became  more  closely  united,  and  the  doctrine,  that  Catho- 
licism was  a  support  of  absolute  power,  while  Protestantism 
favoured  the  freedom  of  the  people,  although  but  partially 
true  and  not  formally  acknowledged,  becanie  gradually  de- 
veloped, and  was  adopted  as  the  favourite  maxim  of  more 
than  one  cabinet ;  nay,  finally,  cost  the  Stuarts  their  throne. 
The  former  of  the  two  propositions  it  would  be  difficult  to 
prove,  while  the  latter  is  true  only  inasmuch  as  a  Protestant 
party  under  a  Catholic  government  might,  by  oppression, 
be  rendered  rebellious,  and  thus  become  dangerous  to  it. 

Thus,  in  the  last  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  poli- 
tical system  of  Europe  assumed  a  different  form  from  that 
which  distinguished  it  in  the  first.  France  and  Austria  were 
then  the  chief  states  of  Europe,  and  the  balance  of  power 


u 


290 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


depended  upon  their  emulation ;  but  as  France  was  now 
occupied  with  its  own  internal  dissensions,  and  Austria,  its 
strength  much  diminished  by  the  separation  from  Spain, 
was  kept  inactive  by  the  incapacity  of  Rudolf  IL,  Spain 
and  England  stepped  forward  in  their  stead.  In  the  rivalry 
between  the  two  former  powers,  religion  had  little  to  do ; 
in  that  of  the  latter,  religion  and  politics  were  inseparably 
united.  In  the  one  case,  every  thing  depended  upon  the 
forces  by  land  ;  in  the  other,  the  navy  was  of  great  import- 
ance, the  army  of  hardly  any  :  while  from  the  defeat  of  the 
invincible  armada,  Europe  dates  the  use  of  the  term  "  Na- 
val Powers,"  which,  till  then,  the  science  of  politics  either 
did  not  admit  at  all,  or  understood  but  partially. 

Such  were  the  elements  of  the  new  system  of  which  the 
republic  of  the  Netherlands  became  every  year  a  more  dis- 
tinguished constituent.  It  soon  attained  to  a  separation 
from  Spain,  though  such  an  act  was  far  from  its  original 
design  ;  and  quickly  reached  a  degree  of  importance  which 
rendered  the  assistance  of  any  foreign  power  superfluous. 
But  the  path  of  fame  upon  which  it  entered  was  new  to  the 
ambition  of  Europe,  whose  nations  gazed  in  wonder  upon 
the  goal  to  which  it  led.  Even  while  its  existence  as  a  state 
was  yet  uncertain,  this  upstart  power  grasped  the  whole 
commerce  of  the  world  as  its  portion,  and  thus  supplied 
itself  with  resources  for  a  struggle  which  was  longer  and 
more  desperate  than  that  of  Greece  with  Persia. 

Thus,  in  the  midst  of  the  monarchies  of  Europe,  arose  a 
republic  which  first  presented  this  quarter  of  the  globe  with 
the  example  of  a  commercial  state  supported  by  naval  power; 
and  if,  as  we  have  shown,  its  rise  may  be  attributed  to  the 
Reformation,  to  the  Reformation  also  belongs  the  principle 
of  life  which  commerce  served  to  breathe  into  politics,  after 
the  direct  influence  of  religion  had  expired. 

THIRD  PERIOD,  1603—1648. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  system  of 
a  balance  of  power  in  Europe  was  both  altered  and  extended ; 
the  influence  of  the  Reformation,  however,  far  from  being 
diminished  during  that  period,  showed  itself  in  its  greatest 
force.  The  death  of  Philip  IL,  (1598,)  and  of  EHzabeth, 
(1603,)  put  an  end  to  the  rivalry  of  Spain  and  England, 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


J^9I 


which  bad,  in  fact,  been  mainly  founded  upon  the  personal 
dislike  which  these  crowned  heads  entertained  towards  each 
other;  and  England,  falling  into  the  indolent  hands  of 
James  I.,  was  soon  in  a  situation  which  precluded  any  effec- 
tual participation  in  the  aflfairs  of  other  countries;  while 
amidst  the  troubles  which  attended  the  reign  of  his  unfor- 
tunate son,  it  was  totally  shut  out  from  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  France  had  recovered  her  internal 
security  since  the  accession  of  the  Bourbons  ;  and  the  ju- 
dicious government  of  Henry  IV.  and  Sully,  had  in  a  won- 
derfully short  time  healed  up  the  wounds  inflicted  by  the 
civil  war.  France  then  resumed  her  proper  station  in  the 
political  system  of  Europe ;  her  old  jealousy  of  the  Spanish- 
Austrian  house  revived  of  itself;  but  in  the  schemes  of 
Henry  IV.  it  was  considered  only  as  the  means  to  an  end, 
only  as  the  foundation  of  a  new  system  by  which  Europe 
was  to  be  remodelled. 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  the  celebrated  project  of  a 
European  republic  ;  the  prosecution  of  which  would  either 
have  wholly  spared  this  quarter  of  the  world  a  war  of  thirty 
years,  or,  which  is  more  probable,  have  accelerated  its  com- 
mencement. With  the  death  of  its  author  (1610)  not  only 
did  this  scheme  pass  away,  but  instead  of  rivalry  with  Spain 
a  friendly  connexion  was  established  ;  and  France,  falling  a 
prey  to  the  petty  factions  of  the  court,  sank  back  into  a 
state  of  weakness  and  vacillation,  which  ended  only  when 
Richelieu  (1624)  laid  his  firm  grasp  upon  the  helm  of  state. 

But  though  the  murder  of  Henry  IV.  prevented  France 
from  taking  the  first  part  in  the  great  tragedy  of  which  Eu- 
rope was  to  be  the  stage,  it  yet  delayed,  although  it  could 
not  wholly  avert,  the  tragedy  itself  The  scene  of  it  was 
already  chosen,  and  as  Germany  during  the  thirty  years 
war  obtained  this  melancholy  preference,  its  fate  became 
connected  with  the  destinies  of  Europe. 

The  general  point  of  view  from  which  the  origin  of  this 
war  must  be  considered,  has  been  given  above.  After  the 
religious  peace  of  Augsburg — a  peace  far  too  easily  ob- 
tained— the  maintenance  of  a  balance  between  the  two  par- 
ties had  become  the  constant  object  of  German  politics. 
But,  if  we  throw  a  glance  over  the  internal  affairs  of  the  em- 
pire, from  the  date  of  that  peace  till  the  commencement  of 

u  2 


292 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


the  great  war,  (1556—1618,)  we  shall  see,  at  once,  how 
feebly  order  w^as  maintained.  Among  the  articles  of  the 
peace  itself,  the  reservatum  ecclesiasticum,^  which  the  Pro- 
testants did  not  acknowledge,  had  laid  a  train  to  light  up 
future  wars.  But,  besides  this,  there  were  ample  opportu- 
nities for  mutual  complaint ;  the  old  party  could,  with  diffi- 
culty, bring  itself  to  consider  the  new  as  possessed  of  equal 
rights  with  its  own ;  and,  without  tracing  the  proofs  of  it 
historically,  we  may  feel  morally  convinced  that  the  Protest- 
ants were  usually  wrong.  Hence  religious  grievances  formed 
a  standing  article  of  discussion  in  the  diets  of  the  time ;  and, 
had  not  the  Turkish  war  occasionally  compelled  a  temporary 
union,  and  directed  public  attention  to  other  matters,  peace 
could  hardly  have  been  so  long  maintained.  The  personal 
qualities  of  Ferdinand  I.,  and  still  more  of  his  worthy  suc- 
cessor, Maximilian  II.,  were  of  great  effect  in  preserving 
quiet  for  a  time ;  but  under  the  protracted  and  sluggish  reign 
of  Rudolph  II.,  the  materials  of  discontent  accumulated  so 
rapidly  that  the  two  parties  stood,  even  then,  in  arms  against 
each  other.  In  1608  the  Protestant  union  was  formed, 
which  caused,  in  turn,  the  organization  of  the  Catholic 
league. 

In  the  mean  time,  however,  the  Protestant  partv  was  so 
unfortunate  as  to  be  divided  against  itself  The  religious 
separation  of  the  Lutherans  from  the  Calvinists  had  had  its 
political  influence  in  Germany  as  elsewhere ;  and  the  jea- 
lousy, which  existed  between  the  electoral  houses  of  Saxony 
and  the  Palatinate,  especially  after  the  latter  had  put  itself 
at  the  head  of  the  union,  estranged  the  former  from  the  com- 
mon cause.  If  any  balance  of  power,  therefore,  had  before 
existed  between  the  two  parties,  it  was  now  at  an  end.  But 
the  greatest  evil  by  which  the  Protestants  were  oppressed, 
was  the  want  of  a  leader  of  sufficient  power  and  ability 
to  give  firmness  to  their  confederation;  for  without  this 
the  first  active  measures  of  a  party  lead  to  its  own  disso- 
lution. 

After  the  death  of  Maurice  of  Saxony,  the  Protestants 
were  not  fortunate  enough  to  reckon  among  their  princes—- 

'  The  reservatum  ecclesiasticum  respected  the  question,  Whether  the  future 
freedom  of  rehgion  should  be  extended  only  to  the  secular  orders,  or  also  to 
the  ecclesiastical— V.  Heeren's  Manual,  p.  47. 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


293 


certainly  not  among  those  who  formed  the  union — a  single 
man  who  joined  the  requisite  talents  with  the  requisite  in- 
fluence, even  in  a  moderate  degree ;  while  the  league  was 
admirably  provided  with  a  leader  in  Prince  Maximilian  of 

Bavaria. 

Thus  the  elements  of  disorder  were  scattered,  not  only 
throughout  Germany,  but  in  other  countries,  and  especially 
in  the  chief  of  those  which  constituted  the  Austrian  mon- 
archy; and  when  Ferdinand  II.  was  named  as  successor  to  the 
throne,  (1617,)  it  became  evident  from  his  known  impatience 
of  temper,  that  the  crisis  would  be  immediately  brought  on. 
No  one  could  determine,  however,  where  the  first  blow 
would  be  struck ; — as  it  chanced,  this  was  in  Bohemia — but 
the  war  would  probably  have  been  the  same  in  all  material 
points  had  it  occurred  elsewhere.  The  fire  of  dissension 
now  spread  with  fearful  rapidity,  and  wrapped  half  Europe 
in  its  flames,  which,  after  raging  thirty  years,  were  only  par- 
tially got  under;  their  total  extinction  being  delayed  till 
eleven  years  later  (1659). 

Although  any  thing  like  detail  relative  to  this  war  is  wholly 
beyond  our  present  limits,  we  must  yet  trace  out  the  chief 
epochs  in  it,  that  we  may  thus  show  the  extensive  changes 
in  the  political  system  of  Europe,  of  which,  by  means  of  it, 
the  Reformation  became  the  cause. 

We  are  by  no  means  to  imagine  that  the  thirty  years'  war 
was,  from  beginning  to  end,  conducted  upon  one  plan,  or 
even  directed  to  one  object.  No  one,  in  fact,  could  at  its 
commencement  have  anticipated  either  its  duration  or  extent. 
The  saying  of  Cato  the  elder,  that,  "  war  feeds  itself,"  proved 
here,  as  elsewhere,  unfortunately,  too  true.  From  time  to 
time,  and  just  as  the  flames  appeared  on  the  point  of  being 
extinguished,  some  new  interest  would  be  called  into  action 
and  revive  them  with  fresh  fuel.  Nevertheless,  amidst  all 
changes  of  affairs,  and  intermixture  of  political  interests, 
religion  formed  the  groundwork  of  the  whole ;  and  the  thirty 
years'  war  must,  therefore,  in  a  general  view,  be  considered 
as  an  effect  of  the  Reformation. 

In  its  origin,  it  was  merely  a  civil  war,  confined  to  the 
Austrian  monarchy,  and  having  for  its  object  the  subjection 
of  the  Bohemian  insurgents.  This  object  was  fully  attained 
by  the  battle  of  Prague ;  the  war  therefore  might  have  ap- 


294 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


peared  to  be  at  an  end.    But  the  ease  with  which  success 
had  been  obtained,  led  to  new  projects. 

The  conquered  party  in  Bohemia  was  in  connexion  with 
the  Protestants  of  the  empire,  and  had  chosen  a  king  in  the 
person  of  the  unfortunate  Frederic  of  the  Palatinate,  who 
was  chief  of  the  Protestant  union.  This  prince,  deprived  of 
his  hereditary  possessions,  and  under  the  ban  of  the  empire, 
was  now  wandering  as  an  exile,  attended  by  two  adven- 
turers, and  a  handful  of  troops.  His  territory  lay  open  for 
attack,  and  seemed  to  promise  a  secure  booty.  Not  only 
his  own  incapacity,  but  also  that  of  the  other  members  of 
the  union,  had  been  so  clearly  proved,  that  it  did  not  seem 
to  require  even  another  battle  such  as  that  of  Prague,  to  anni^ 
hilate  the  Protestant  party— especially  as  it  had  already  been 
weak  enough  to  allow  itself  to  be  disarmed  without  opposition. 

It  is  probable,  however,  that  the  latter  object  may  not 
have  entered  directly  into  the  views  of  the  emperor  at  that 
time  ;  but  the  more  it  could  be  brought  forward  the  greater 
was  his  temptation  :  and  the  more  speedily  he  was  opposed, 
the  more  confident  became  the  opinion  that  the  supremacy 
of  Germany  was  at  stake. 

But  about  this  time  (1621)  war  broke  out  again  in  an- 
other country.  After  a  twelve  years'  truce  between  Spain 
and  the  Netherlands,  Philip  IV.,  although  but  lately  come 
to  the  throne,  began  the  contest  afresh.  And  this  new  war 
almost  necessarily  fed,  as  it  was  in  turn  fed  by,  the  troubles 
in  Germany. 

In  this  case,  as  in  the  other,  religion  was  the  cause  of 
difference ;  while  the  houses  of  Spain  and  Austria,  which 
had  long  been  estranged,  had  at  the  accession  of  Ferdinand 
II.  become  again  so  closely  united  that  the  interests  of  the 
two  were  now  the  same.  The  war,  then,  was  carried  on 
here  and  in  Germany  at  the  same  time  :  but  with  its  change 

of  object  it  had  acquired  a  higher  degree  of  importance 

the  subjection  of  Bohemia  was  a  matter  which  touched 
Austria  alone ;  that  of  Germany  and  the  Netherlands  was  a 
subject  of  interest  to  all  Europe. 

The  interference  of  foreign  powers  in  the  German  war, 
was  naturally  to  be  expected  under  these  circumstances ; 
and  France,  above  all,  must  have  found  in  its  ancient  rivalry 
with  Austria  abundant  reasons  for  preventing  the  supe- 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


295 


riority,  which  the  conquest  of  Germany  would  have  given 
to  that  power.  But  then,  France,  until  the  ministry  of 
Richelieu,  (1624,)  was  under  a  divided  government,  and 
guided  by  no  steady  system  of  policy;  and  even  he  was  at 
first  too  much  occupied  with  the  internal  affairs  of  the 
kingdom  to  take  an  active  part.  Still,  however,  he  in- 
trigued in  the  north  of  Europe  :  and  it  was  he  who  animated 
Gustavus  Adolphus  to  come  forth  as  the  avenger  of  the 
Protestant  cause,  after  the  battle  of  Lutter  (1626)  had 
checked  the  attempt  of  Christian  IV.  of  Denmark  to  inter- 
fere in  the  affairs  of  Germany. 

This  first  participation  of  the  north  of  Europe  in  the  in- 
terests of  the  south  and  west,  formed  an  entirely  new  feature 
in  the  European  system,  and  was  as  important  in  its  conse- 
quences as  it  was  new.  Up  to  this  time  the  northern  pow- 
ers had  formed  a  system  of  their  own,  which,  partly  owing 
to  the  Polish  and  Swedish  wars — these  being  also  caused 
by  religious  interests,  which  had  become  mixed  with  family 
feuds— had  for  forty  years  been  firmly  kept  together ;  be- 
tween it  and  the  rest  of  Europe,  however,  there  had  as  yet 
been  no  permanent  causes  of  contact. 

These  the  Reformation  produced ;  and  hy  its  means  was 
Europe  for  the  first  time  framed  into  one  political  system. 
At  a  time  when  it  was  deeply  felt  that  the  maintenance  of 
the  balance  in  Germany  was  extremely  uncertain,  the  want 
of  a  northern  power  suflficiently  formidable  to  oppose  Aus- 
tria became  evident.  This  part  Sweden  undertook,  and 
thus  arose  a  new  order  of  things  in  European  politics. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Sweden  was  the  state  best 
qualified  by  its  superior  organization,  and  especially  by  its 
possession  of  such  valuable  lands,  as  it  in  those  days  held, 
upon  the  Baltic  or  gulf  of  Finland,  for  the  task  which  it 
undertook;  nor  is  this  less  certain  because  the  sequel 
showed  that  the  extraordinary  abilities  of  its  king  were  of 
more  consequence  than  its  internal  resources.  The  splendid 
career  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  ended  early  by  his  death  at 
Lutzen ;  and  yet  late  enough  to  secure  to  Sweden  its  influ- 
ence in  the  affairs  of  Germany,  and  at  the  same  time  in 
those  of  Europe.  Even  the  changes  caused  by  the  fortune 
of  war,  had  little  effect  upon  the  position  thus  gained  ;  espe- 
cially when  even  Richelieu,  after  the  defeat  at  Nordlingen, 


'^ 


296 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


UOF  THE  REFORMATION. 


297 


(1634,)  ceased  to  be  a  mere  spectator.  From  this  time 
Sweden  ranked  among  the  first  powers  of  Europe,  and  the 
famous  treaty  of  Westphalia  appeared  to  secure  it  in  this 
place,  by  the  important  possessions  in  Germany  which  were 
by  it  assigned  to  the  Swedes. 

It  has  been  often  questioned  whether  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus,  had  he  lived,  would  not  have  been  fully  as  dangerous 
an  enemy  to  the  freedom  of  Germany  as  Austria  was.  The 
answer  to  this  will  be  easy,  if  we  suppose — what,  in  the  case 
of  such  a  prince,  we  surely  may— viz.  that  he  would  have 
obeyed  the  dictates  of  sound  policy.  There  was  only  one 
character  by  adhering  to  which  Sweden  could  maintain 
itself  in  the  superiority  which  it  had  attained — that  of  the 
head  of  the  Protestant  party  in  Germany.  As  head  of  this 
party,  it  had  obtained  the  most  decided  influence  over  the 
affairs  of  Germany.  As  such  it  still  stood  forth  as  the  state 
which  opposed  Austria.  As  such  it  was  the  natural  ally  of 
France;  and,  as  such— a  consequence  of  all  these  advan- 
tages— it  maintained  its  rank  among  the  first  powers  of 
Europe.  If  such  a  supremacy  as  this — which  might  doubt- 
less be  oppressive  to  more  than  one  state  of  the  German 
empire,  since  every  thing  depended  upon  the  mode  in  which 
it  was  exercised— if  this,  I  say,  is  to  be  termed  the  annihil- 
ation of  the  freedom  of  Germany,  it  must  necessarily  have 
been  included  in  the  scheme  of  Gustavus  Adolphus.  But 
if  he  aimed  at  more  than  this,  he  himself  marred  the  glorious 
character  he  had  undertaken,  and  sought  that  which  he  could 
not  long  have  held.  The  dominion  of  the  weaker  over  the 
stronger,  which  temporary  causes  produce,  may  last  for  a 
while,  but  it  is  against  nature  that  it  should  be  of  long  dur- 
ation. It  was  impossible  that  Germany  should  have  been 
reduced  into  a  province  by  Sweden. 

The  peace  of  Westphalia  put  an  end  to  both  the  German 
war  and  that  in  the  Netherlands.  This  peace  was  prized 
more  than  any  ever  was  before,  and  that  often  beyond  its 
deserts.  It  caused,  undoubtedly,  three  important  results ; 
since,  in  the  first  place,  it  secured  the  constitution  of  Ger- 
many, and  with  it  the  existence  and  the  rights  of  both  par- 
ties. In  the  second,  it  produced  a  recognition  of  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  republic  of  the  United  Netherlands.  And 
m  the  third,  it  determined  the  relation  in  which  Sweden 


and  France  should  severally  stand  to  Germany.  Neverthe- 
less, however  important  these  points  may  be,  and  with  how- 
ever much  justice  we  may  consider  this  treaty  as  the  basis 
of  the  German  constitution,  such  as  it  was  up  to  the  revolu- 
tions of  our  own  day;  too  much  is  undoubtedly  ascribed  to 
it,  when,  as  often  is  the  case,  it  is  also  considered  as  the 
origin  of  the  balance  of  power  in  Europe.  It  never  occurred 
to  the  negotiators  of  the  peace  to  regulate  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  European  policy,  nor  indeed  could  it,  since  they 
had  no  commission  so  to  do.  The  most  important  and  in- 
tricate relations  existing  between  the  chief  powers  of  Europe 
were,  therefore,  naturally  left  unexamined,  nay,  in  part 
wholly  unmentioned.  The  war  between  Spain  and  France 
lasted  full  ten  years  more,  down  to  the  Pyrenean  peace ;  the 
question  whether  Portugal  should  maintain  its  independence 
of  Spain,  was  still  longer  doubtful.  Not  a  thought  even  was 
bestowed  upon  the  continental  relations  of  England,  because 
in  those  days  such  relations  were  not  in  existence ;  while 
those  of  the  east  of  Europe  remained  undetermined  in  their 
main  features  till  the  peace  of  Oliva,  which  was  twelve  years 
later  (1660).  Although,  therefore,  we  find  the  Westphalian 
peace  treated  in  historical  works  as  the  origin  of  the  balance 
of  power  in  Europe,  this  is  only  one  of  the  many  instances 
which  occur,  of  historians  dealing  with  that  as  a  general  prin- 
ciple, which  can  be  truly  aflirmed  only  in  a  narrower  sense. 

The  first  half,  therefore,  of  the  seventeenth  century  was  the 
period  during  which  the  political  influence  of  the  Reformation 
upon  almost  every  part  of  the  European  political  system  was 
at  its  height,  especially  since  England  was  also  involved,  at 
this  very  time,  in  civil  wars,  caused  by  religious  sects,  and 
leading  to  the  establishment  of  a  national  church  ;  and  the 
party  of  the  Hugonots  was  forcibly  disarmed  in  France. 

But  the  springs  of  action  in  morals  and  in  politics  gra- 
dually lose  their  strength,  like  those  in  material  mechanism  : 
and  this  was  the  case  with  the  Reformation.  The  proof  of 
it  we  shall  presently  find  in  the  history  of  the  second  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century. 

FOURTH  PERIOD,  1648—1702. 

The  government  of  France  is  entitled  to  the  credit  of 
having  been  the  first  to  raise  itself  above  the  narrow  views 


898 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


to  which  the  bigotry  of  the  other  powers  confined  them. 

Richelieu,  by  leaguing  himself  with  Gustavus  Adolphus a 

cardinal  with  a  Protestant  king — was  the  means  of  pointing 
out  to  Europe  that  political  and  religious  interests  might  be 
separately  considered. 

The  age  of  Lewis  XIV.  caused  the  gradual  spread  of 
this  opinion.  His  political  schemes  had  little  to  do  with 
religion,  and  the  latter  interest  would  at  that  time  have 
wholly  lost  its  influence  upon  the  political  progress  of  Eu- 
rope, had  not  one  of  its  chief  states,  viz.  England,  been  still 
powerfully  affected  by  it.  The  conflict  of  factions,  in  whose 
causes  of  strife  religion  mingled  with  politics,  had  been  too 
fierce  m  that  country  to  allow  the  ferment  to  be  stilled  at 
once,  even  by  the  Restoration  (1660);  and  the  mad  policy 
of  the  last  Stuarts  gave  it  too  good  cause  for  continuance. 
For  whilst  the  introduction  of  Catholicism  appeared  to  them 
to  promise  that  of  absolute  power,  and  was  on  that  account 
their  object,  the  nation,  on  the  other  hand,  came  to  the  firm 
conviction  that  the  national  freedom  depended  upon  the 
maintenance  of  the  Protestant  faith.  The  state  of  constant 
alliance  in  which  Lewis  XIV.  stood  with  both  Charles  11. 
and  James  II.,  gave  this  maxim  a  practical  influence  over 
the  rest  of  Europe ;  and  thus  Lewis  XIV.  was  forced,  wholly 
against  his  will,  to  assist  in  raising  William  III.,  his  most 
zealous  opponent,  to  the  throne  of  England,  upon  the  fall  of 
the  Stuarts. 

If  this  occurrence  may  be  considered  as  a  consequence 
of  the  Reformation,  it  must  also,  to  a  certain  degree,  be 
considered  the  last  by  which  it  exercised  a  general  influence 
upon  the  politics  of  Europe.  This  important  change  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  antipathy  which  has  since  existed  be- 
tween England  and  France.  But,  although  the  Pretender 
was  occasionally  used  as  a  bugbear  to  England,  it  was  fed 
by  means  very  different  from  those  supplied  by  religion, 
whose  place  was  now  occupied  by  commerce.  And  as  the 
republic  of  the  United  Netherlands  has  ever  since  attached 
itself  to  England,  the  naval  powers  formed,  in  the  scales  of 
Europe,  the  principal  counter-balance  to  the  great  influence 
of  France. 

Even  in  the  German  empire,  where  the  influence  of  reli- 
gion upon  politics  might  have  been  chiefly  expected  to 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


299 


remain  in  force,  it  now  died  away ;  and  a  very  different 
result  was  in  preparation,  from  what  the  most  prescient 
soothsayer  could  have  foretold  at  the  time  of  the  Westpha- 
lian  peace.  The  schemes  of  conquest  nourished  by  Lewis 
XIV.,  and  the  renewed  aggression  of  the  Turks,  (who,  for- 
tunately, had  been  engaged  against  the  Persians  in  Asia 
during  the  thirty  years'  war,)  put  Germany  in  such  a  posi- 
tion as  to  oblige  the  two  religious  parties  to  lay  aside  their 
quarrel,  although  they  retained  their  hatred  to  each  other. 
Thus  the  pressure  of  circumstances  caused  alliances  in 
which  religion  had  no  share ;  and  some  of  the  most  power- 
ful Protestant  princes  might  be  seen  uniting  their  arms  with 
those  of  the  emperor,  in  order  to  oppose  themselves,  at  one 
time,  in  the  west,  at  another,  in  the  east,  to  the  enemy  who 
pressed  in  upon  them.  The  just  apprehensions  which  had 
been  caused  by  the  superiority  of  Sweden,  began  to  fade 
away  of  themselves,  after  the  battle  of  Fehrbellin  (1675). 
The  profusion  of  Christina,  and  the  wild  projects  of  her 
successors,  had  exhausted  the  kingdom ;  and  although  the: 
wonderful  abilities  and  extraordinary  undertakings  of 
Charles  XII.  enabled  him,  for  a  season,  to  raise  the  spirit  of 
the  nation  even  above  its  natural  pitch,  and  to  fit  it  for  un- 
heard-of exertions,  yet,  even  at  that  time,  it  was  suflSciently 
evident  that  a  country  so  little  favoured  by  nature,  must 
needs  be  left  behind  amidst  the  growing  prosperity  of  the 
rest  of  Europe.  But  though  Sweden  was  thus  on  the  de- 
cline, there  was  another  state  in  the  north  of  Germany^ 
which  was  destined  to  supply,  ay,  and  more  than  supply, 
its  place  in  the  politics  of  Europe. 

It  has  been  pointed  out  above  in  what  degree  the  Prus- 
sian monarchy  owed  its  origin  to  the  Reformation ;  but, 
though  this  power  may  in  a  certain  sense  be  said  to  have 
succeeded  to  the  influence  of  Sweden,  yet  there  was  a 
marked  difference  in  the  mode  in  which  this  influence  was 
exercised  upon  the  political  system  of  Europe.  While  the 
latter  kingdom,  owing  to  its  unfavourable  geographical  posi- 
tion, and  the  scantiness  of  its  resources,  could  not  possess 
any  great  influence  over  that  system,  except  under  a  con- 
fluence of  fortunate  cfrcumstances,  the  influence  of  Prussia, 
as  soon  as  the  kingdom  attained  a  certain  degree  of  strength, 
necessarily  became  far  more  firm  and  lasting. 


300 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


Up  to  this  time,  there  had  been  wanting  in  the  n^achinery 
of  Europe,  a  state  which  might  keep  the  North  and  South 
securely  together.  This  was  suppHed  by  Sweden  for  a  time, 
but  owing  to  the  causes  above  remarked,  it  could  not  long 
maintain  such  a  position.  Prussia,  since  its  accession  to  the 
first  rank  of  European  powers,  has  been  enabled,  by  its  situ- 
ation as  a  country,  extending  alike  to  the  east  and  the  west, 
to  supply  this  want.  And  the  spread  of  its  dominions  in  both 
those  quarters  makes  it  probable  that  it  will  continue  to  do  so. 

FIFTH  PERIOD,  1800. 

The  causes,  owing  to  which  the  Reformation  had  begun, 
even  in  the  last  century,  to  lose  its  political  influence,  are 
evident  from  what  we  have  already  said;  and  the  same 
causes,  joined  to  others  still  more  powerful,  operated  in  a 
still  stronger  degree  during  the  period  which  we  are  now  to 
consider.  As  we  are  taught,  generally,  by  the  nature  of 
things,  that  springs  of  moral  action  retain  their  vigour  for  a 
certain  time,  and  then  begin  to  relax,  so  we  learn  from  his- 
tory that,  once  lost,  such  energies  can  never  be  restored. 
They  operate  by  means  of  the  immediate  relation  in  which 
they  stand  to  the  prevalent  opinions  of  the  day ;  and  as 
these,  according  to  the  laws  of  our  nature,  are  subject  to 
constant  although  gradual  changes,  the  energies  dependent 
upon  them  must  be  so  likewise. 

The  age  of  Lewis  XIV.,  especially  the  first  half  of  it,  down 
to  the  peace  of  Nimeguen,  had  so  much  to  attract  the  eye, 
that  amidst  the  crowd  of  new  and  important  occurrences, 
which  presented  itself  to  the  attention  and  the  admiration  of 
the  French,  the  views  of  that  nation  could  not  but  be  greatly 
extended.  And  although  the  estimation  in  which  matters 
of  religion  were  held  cannot,  on  the  whole,  be  said  to  have 
decreased,  yet,  as  art  and  literature  became  more  flourish- 
ing, their  productions  divided  public  attention. 

What  occurred  in  France,  occurred  gradually  in  the  rest 
of  civilized  Europe  ;  and  it  became  every  day  better  under- 
stood that  there  were  other  objects,  besides  those  of  religious 
controversy,  upon  which  men  s  minds  might  be  engaged. 
We  must  be  careful,  however,  not  to  push  this  assertion  too 
far.  The  spirit  of  intolerance  had,  owing  to  the  causes 
above  explained,  become  too  deeply  impressed  upon  the 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


301 


minds  of  the  European  nations ;  and,  for  a  long  time  to 
come,  not  only  maintained  its  influence  upon  private  life, 
but  showed  itself  without  disguise  in  the  administration  of 
their  internal  affairs.  The  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes 
(by  which  Lewis  XIV.,  in  spreading  the  industry  and  skill 
of  French  artisans  over  the  rest  of  Europe,  unintentionally 
repaid  it,  in  some  degree,  for  the  evils  which  his  wars  had 
caused)  gave  proof  of  what  we  say,  in  France ;  while  by  the 
famous  clause  which  was  added  to  the  fourth  article  of  the 
treaty  of  Ryswick,  Lewis  XIV.  also  provided  a  new  cause  of 
dissension  between  the  Catholics  and  Protestants  in  Ger- 
many, the  operation  of  which  was  for  a  long  time  percepti- 
ble. But,  powerful  as  might  still  be  the  influence  of  this 
destructive  spirit,  in  the  manner  which  we  have  now  de- 
scribed, it  as  undoubtedly  ceased  to  interfere  with  the  mutual 
relations  of  the  different  states,  and  the  higher  system  of 
politics  upon  which  these  depend.  It  was  from  the  higher 
regions  that  the  clouds  of  prejudice  first  disappeared,  but  a 
long  interval  elapsed  before  the  sun  of  knowledge  was  strong 
enough  to  drive  them  out  from  those  beneath.  In  the  mean 
time  it  was  chiefly  from  individual  circumstances,  as  they 
arose,  that  politics  received  their  direction. 

While  the  enterprises  of  Lewis  XIV.,  and  the  wealth 
amassed  by  the  successful  trade  and  manufactures  of  the 
Dutch,  had,  during  the  last  period,  assigned  different  spheres 
to  religion  and  to  politics,  the  vacant  succession  to  the  throne 
of  Spain  gave  rise,  at  the  close  of  the  century,  to  a  new 
30urce  of  interest ;  and  one  so  great  and  important,  that  the 
whole  of  Western  Europe  was  occupied  by  it  for  nearly  fif- 
teen years.  During  the  same,  and  even  a  longer  period,  a 
war  of  equal  fury  was  carried  on  in  the  East,  by  which  that 
quarter  of  Europe  was  subjected  to  a  complete  revolution  of 
affairs.  A  power  of  the  first  rank  was  forming  itself  here, 
which  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  either  the  Catholic  or 
the  Protestant  interest,  since  it  belonged  to  neither  of  the 
two  parties — and  the  glorious  career  of  Eugene  and  Marl- 
borough, of  Charles  and  Peter,  presented  a  scene  so  different 
from  any  that  Europe  had  hitherto  beheld — the  duration  of 
it  was  so  long,  and  the  impression  which  remained  from  it 
so  deep,  that  it  was  impossible  to  return  to  the  opinions  by 
which  politics  had  previously  been  governed.     The  position 


302 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


of  almost  all  the  powers  of  Europe  was  thereby  wholly  al- 
tered ;  and  this  change,  joined  to  the  mediocrity  of  talent 
displayed  by  most  of  the  regents  and  ministers  who  immedi- 
ately succeeded,  caused  an  uncertainty  in  general  politics 
which,  from  1720  to  1740,  was  not  unlike  that  which  cha- 
racterized the  first  sixteen  years  of  the  sixteenth  centurJ^ 
There  was  the  same  abundance,  and  the  same  change  of  al- 
liances  and   counter-alliances — France   united   itself  with 
England,  and  Austria  made  the  recognition  of  the  Pragmatic 
sanction  the  chief  object  of  her  policy !  But  in  all  this  re- 
ligion had  no  share;   the  hereditary  enmity  of  France  and 
England  seemed  to  be  lost  in  their  alliance ;  and  a  trading 
company  to  the  East  Indies  was  considered  of  far  higher  im- 
portance than  any  theological  dispute.      To  put  an  end  to 
these  continual  changes  in  the  politics  of  Europe  there  was 
wanted  the  genius  of  some  great  man,  who  should  possess 
sufficient  independence  to  act  for   himself,  and   sufficient 
strength  to  make  his  plans  effective.    This  want  was  supplied 
by  Frederic  11.      The  treaty  of  Breslau  (1742)  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  new  system  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
balance  of  political  power  in  Europe,  of  which  Prussia  and 
Austria  were  the  chief  members,  while  France,  by  siding 
first  with  the  one  and  then  with  the  other,  degraded  herself 
to  the  rank  of  a  second-rate  power. 

The  difference  in  religion  between  the  two  monarchies 
had,  however,  no  influence  in  this;  even  in  the  German 
empire,  where  the  irritation  of  the  two  parties  was  most 
likely  to  continue,  it  gradually  disappeared ;  and  every  thing 
went  to  prove  that  religion  had  lost  its  power  as  a  spring  of 
action  in  politics,  and  could  be  misapplied  for  the  purposes 
of  faction  at  utmost  only  in  a  nation  which,  like  that  of  the 
Poles,  had  taken  no  real  share  in  the  beneficial  progress  of 
political  knowledge. 

It  thus  became  possible  that  Europe  should  be  shaken  by 
a  new  and  mighty  revolution,  in  which  rehgion  had  no  fur- 
ther share  than  that  the  necessity  of  its  existence  in  the  dif- 
ferent states  became  the  more  evident,  the  greater  the  efforts 
which  were  made  to  destroy  it.  And  finally,  that  very 
country,  among  the  foremost  of  whose  ancient  constitutional 
principles  was  that  of  the  greatest  possible  maintenance  of 
religious  equality  among  its  classes,  when  it  was  lately  en- 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


303 


gaged  in  changing  its  form  of  government,  seems  to  have 
thought  that  an  incidental  notice  at  the  close  of  the  discus- 
sion was  sufficient  for  matters  the  consideration  of  which 
would  formerly  have  been  its  first  care ;  nay,  it  is  possible 
that  they  might  not  have  been  alluded  to  at  all,  had  they 
not  been  connected  with  other  questions  which  still  retained 
their  importance. 

III.  Effects  of  the  Reformation  upon  Commerce  and  the 
Colonial  System, 

The  third  point  of  view  in  which  we  have  to  consider  the 
political  effects  of  the  Reformation,  is  that  which  regards  the 
influence  exercised  by  it  upon  trade  and  the  colonies.  Per- 
haps, at  first  sight,  this  influence  may  appear  so  distant,  as 
hardly  to  be  considered  within  the  circle  of  our  inquiry ; 
but  we  shall  easily  succeed  in  showing  how  imperfect  it 
would  be  should  we  pay  no  attention  to  this  subject. 

The  Reformation  created  the  republic  of  the  United 
Netherlands,  and,  through  it,  the  trade  of  Europe  with  the 
whole  world.  But,  however  clear  this  truth  is,  it  may  per- 
haps be  objected  to  it,  that  commerce  would  have  spread 
without  the  assistance  of  the  Reformation,  since  the  passage 
to  both  Indies  had  been  previously  discovered,  and  both 
Spain  and  Portugal  had  already  set  the  example.  But,  put- 
ting aside  the  fact,  that  what  might  perhaps  have  happened 
cannot  enter  into  our  estimate,  thus  much  still  appears  cer- 
tain, viz.  that  without  the  Reformation  trade  would  have 
made  much  slower  progress,  and  might  perhaps  never  have 
been  brought  to  that  height  which  it  has  really  attained.  It 
needed  that  bold  and  enterprising  nation  which  sprang 
from  the  necessity  of  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was 
placed,  and  which,  regarding  commerce  only  as  the  source 
of  its  freedom  and  its  existence,  devoted  itself  to  the  pursuit 
with  all  the  energy  which  it  could  command. 

After  the  year  1595  the  Dutch  speedily,  and  in  all  quar- 
ters, surpassed  those  who  till  now  had  governed  the  Indies. 
The  prosperity  of  Portugal  was  already  checked  by  its  un- 
fortunate union  with  Spain  (1580 — 1640)  ;  and  the  narrow 
policy  upon  which  the  colonial  trade  of  Spain  itself  was  con- 
ducted, rendered  it  impossible  that  any  general  system  of 
commerce  should  spring  from  it.  On  the  other  hand,  how 
rapid  was  the  progress  of  this  trade  in  the  hands  of  the 


304 


POLITICAL  CONSEQUENCES 


Dutch  ;  and  how  much  more  rapid  even  might  it  have  been 
had  it  been  freed  at  the  right  moment  from  the  fetters  of 
monopoly  !  May  not  this,  however,  which  must  be  allowed 
as  regards  the  Dutch,  be  also  fairly  alleged,  although  in  a 
less  degree,  of  the  English?  Was  it  not  during  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth  that  the  Drakes  and  Howards  of  England  unfurled 
her  flag  upon  the  most  distant  seas?  Was  it  not  the  spirit  of 
Protestantism  which  gave  them  the  victory  over  the  invin- 
cible armada,  and  thus  enabled  them  to  lay  the  foundations 
of  that  dominion  of  the  seas,  and  that  system  of  universal 
commerce,  to  which  no  previous  ages  ever  offered  a  parallel? 
Finally,  was  it  not  this  spirit  which  animated  the  free  mari- 
time towns  of  Germany,  and  raised  them  to  an  eminence, 
which  even  in  the  times  of  general  revolution  secured  to 
them  the  respect  of  the  first  powers  of  Europe  ?  We  may 
reason,  therefore,  as  we  choose  upon  the  progress  which 
commerce  would  have  made  tvithout  the  Reformation,  but 
this  much  must  always  be  admitted,  viz.  that  to  the  Reform- 
ation it  owes  the  speed  of  its  growth,  and  the  form  which  it 
subsequently  assumed. 

The  Colonies  are  so  closely  connected  with  commerce — • 
having  been  founded  with  a  view  to  its  convenience — that 
they  appear  hardly  to  require  any  separate  mention.  If  we 
have  shown  that  without  the  Reformation  there  would  have 
been  no  Dutch  East  India  trade,  there  would  without  it  have 
been  no  colony  at  the  Cape  or  at  Batavia.  I  am  the  more 
willing,  however,  to  leave  all  further  prosecution  of  this  in- 
quiry to  the  writers  of  commercial  history,  because  it  might 
easily  lead  me  to  the  consideration  of  questions  foreign  to 
my  present  purpose,  and  even  expose  me  to  the  imputation 
of  wishing  to  attribute  to  the  Reformation  consequences  too 
remote  to  be  traced.  Nevertheless,  the  Reformation  had  so 
immediate  an  influence,  in  another  way,  and  in  another  quar- 
ter of  the  globe,  upon  the  origin  and  progress  of  a  colonial 
state,  now  flourishing  and  mighty,  and  which  appears  des- 
tined in  future  centuries  to  guide  the  commerce  of  the 
world,  that  I  cannot  pass  over  this  circumstance  in  silence. 
Who  were  those  exiles  who  set  themselves  down  upon  the 
coasts  of  a  new  world,  in  the  forests  of  North  America,  be- 
cause in  that  older  land  from  which  they  came  they  were 
not  suffered  to  worship  their  God  after  their  own  fashion  ? 


OF  THE  REFORMATION. 


305 


Were  they  not,  to  the  amount  perhaps  of  four-fifths  of  their 
number,  men  banished  across  the  ocean  by  the  disturbances 
caused  by  the  Reformation  in  England  ?  It  is  true  that  these 
plantations  were  founded  during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  but 
it  is  a  notorious  fact  in  history  that  the  stormy  period  of  the 
Stuarts  was  also  the  period  of  their  first  prosperity. 

But  with  their  religious  freedom  the  colonists  brought 
also  the  seeds  of  their  political  independence,  which,  once 
planted  in  the  soil  of  America,  must  have  sprung  up,  and 
sooner  or  later  borne  fruit — and  this,  perhaps,  even  without 
such  advantages  as  were  thus  afforded  it.  It  is  of  the  na- 
ture of  colonies — and  in  this  consists  their  immense  import- 
ance to  mankind — to  set  in  motion  a  new  mass  of  political 
ideas.  In  a  new  country,  beyond  the  sea,  all  cannot  be  as 
it  was  in  the  old.  In  the  case  of  America,  therefore,  even 
had  its  connexion  with  the  mother  country  been  more  close 
than  it  was,  the  ultimate  result  would  probably  have  been 
the  same — we  know,  however,  that  its  dependence  upon 
England  did  not  long  continue  firm;  we  know  that  each  of 
the  provinces  had  already  formed  its  internal  constitution 
upon  principles  so  purely  republican,  that  when  they  threw 
off  their  common  allegiance,  they  possessed  the  inestimable 
advantage  of  having  no  further  revolution  to  undergo,  and 
scarce  any,  except  the  central  government,  to  form. 

Thus  the  political  consequences  of  the  Reformation  spread 
themselves  even  beyond  the  ocean  :  and  thus  it  is  an  un- 
doubted truth,  that  without  the  Reformation  there  would 
have  been  no  free  states  of  North  America !  Reader,  look 
beyond  the  Atlantic,  to  that  new  world  where  Europe  is  re- 
presented in  its  young  and  vigorous  offspring !  then  look 
back  to  Luther  and  Tetzel — and  then  attempt,  if  thou  darest, 
to  foretell  the  effect  of  revolutions  ! 


A  SKETCH  OF 

THE  CONSEQUENCES  OF  THE  REFORMATION  AS  IT 

AFFECTED  PHILOSOPHY. 

A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  AT  THE  JUBILEE  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

[The   following  lecture  was  delivered  in  Latin  by  the 
author,  when  acting  as  Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Philosophy, 


306 


CONSEQUENCES  OF  THE  REFORMATION 


at  the  Jubilee  of  the  Reformation,  on  the  second  of  Novem- 
ber, 1817.  At  the  desire  of  his  friends,  however,  it  was 
translated  by  himself  and  published  in  the  "  Reformations 
Almanac"  of  1819.  The  place  and  occasion  of  its  delivery 
prevented  a  fuller  development  of  the  subject ;  it  is,  there- 
fore, given  only  as  a  supplement  to  the  above  treatise.] 

If  it  should  appear  strange  or  incongruous  to  any  present, 
that  the  Faculty  of  Philosophy  should  not  only  claim  a  so- 
lemn interest  in  the  celebration  of  this  day — a  day  conse- 
crated to  the  recollection  of  that  reformation  of  our  faith 
which  was  begun  three  hundred  years  ago— but  should  fur- 
ther demonstrate  it  by  a  public  act ;  they  will  cease  from 
their  astonishment  when  they  more  fully  consider  the  many 
and  great  benefits  which  are  owed  to  it,  not  only  by  theo- 
logy, but  by  all  those  sciences  which  tend  to  develope  the 
faculties  of  mankind.  For  the  principle  which  we  are  ac- 
customed to  admit  as  true,  in  all  great  revolutions,  whether 
of  our  own  or  of  earlier  times,  viz.  ''  that  their  progress  and 
operations  have  proved  much  more  extensive  than  the  ori- 
ginators of  them  proposed,  and  that  they  could  by  no  means 
be  confined  within  the  limits  which  these  prescribed  to  them," 
— this  principle  may  with  equal  certainty  be  applied  to  the 
Reformation.— It  is  true,  indeed,  that,  even  with  regard  to 
single  events,  it  is  often  difficult  for  the  historian  to  ascer- 
tain the  causes  from  which  they  proceed  :  but  now,  after 
the  lapse  of  three  centuries,  our  position  has  become  such, 
that  we  may,  with  confidence,  give  judgment  upon  those 
general  consequences  which  have  resulted  from  so  great  a 
change.  These,  however,  have  been  so  well  explained  by 
several  distinguished  writers  that  it  would  be  thought  su- 
perfluous to  trace  them  out  anew ;  we  shall,  therefore,  con- 
fine ourselves  to  a  slight  consideration  of  that  part  of  its  in- 
fluence which  was  exercised  upon  philosophy. 

It  cannot  be  supposed  that  it  would  enter  into  the  plan 
of  the  Reformers — men  occupied  more  with  things  apper- 
taming  to  God  than  to  man— to  found  new  systems  of  phi- 
losophy. Still,  however,  they  perceived  that  philosophy 
stood  m  no  less  need  than  theology  of  being  purified  from 
the  subtleties  of  the  schoolmen ;  and  the  man  most  impressed 
with  this,  was  one  whose  memory  is  immortal,  and  whom  we 


AS  IT  AFFECTED  PHILOSOPHY. 


307 


justly  place  next  after  Luther — Melancthon.  "  I  desire," 
says  he  in  his  discourses,  "a  sound  philosophy;  not  those 
empty  words  to  which  nothing  real  corresponds.  For  only 
one  system  of  philosophy  can  be  allowed,  and  that  must  be 
the  least  sophistic,  and  must  pursue  the  true  method." 
These  are,  in  truth,  golden  words  of  thine,  Melancthon,  and 
of  which  one  might  well  say,  that  they  had  been  written  for 
our  times!  But  the  papal  authority  once  shattered  and 
broken,  the  tie  once  dissolved  which  had  bound  philosophy 
so  closely  to  the  doctrines  of  the  church — how  could  it  be 
otherwise  than  that  its  progress,  like  that  of  religion,  should 
be  more  free  and  unconstrained  ?  To  endeavour  fully  to 
trace  this  out  would  require  too  much  digression  and  be 
alien  to  this  place  and  occasion ;  but  we  may  be  allowed  to 
point  out  that  which  the  annals  of  philosophy  most  clearly 
show,  viz.  that  it  has  shed  a  new  light  upon  those  countries 
alone,  in  which  religion  was  cleared  of  its  errors  by  the  Re- 
formers. Among  the  Spaniards,  and  in  other  nations  to 
whom  these  were  denied  all  access,  the  doctors  of  the  schools 
still  reign  triumphant ;  and  we  in  vain  look  among  them 
for  a  Leibnitz,  a  Hume,  a  Locke,  or  Kant,  and  others,  who 
like  these  opened  out  the  fountains  of  a  purer  philosophy. 
Can  this  be  a  mere  accident  ?  Or  must  we  not  rather  admit 
that  it  resulted  from  the  nature  of  the  Reformation  ?  Lest, 
however,  any  one  should  still  doubt,  we  will  endeavour  in  a 
few  words  to  show  more  plainly  the  advantages  which  phi- 
losophy owes  to  the  Reformation. 

We  niay  fairly  begin  by  laying  it  down  that  the  Reformers 
caused  it  to  be  thought  allowable  to  speculate  freely  as  to 
God,  and  what  appertains  to  Him.  We  are  willing  to  ad- 
mit that  questions  touching  the  Divine  nature  and  substance 
(as  the  phrase  ran)  were  frequently  proposed  by  the  school- 
men, and  answered  in  a  variety  of  ways ;  but  whoever  reads 
their  works  must  allow,  that  they  sought  much  more  fre- 
quently to  exercise  their  ingenuity  in  subtle  and  often  im- 
pertinent questions,  than  to  propose  any  thing  worthy  of  the 
majesty  of  the  Godhead.  For  as  they  were  obliged  to  keep 
themselves  within  the  limits  prescribed  by  the  Church,  in 
order  to  avoid  the  charge  of  heresy,  what  else  could  be  ex- 
pected than  that  they  should  lose  themselves  in  curious  and 
idle  investigations  ?    On  the  other  hand,  the  propagators  of 

X  2 


308 


CONSEQUENCES  OF  THE  REFORMATION 


the  Reformed  faith,  although  thej^  took,  and  rightly  took,  the 
Holy  Scriptures  as  the  foundation  of  theology,  yet  by  no 
means  required  that  philosophy  should  rest  upon  the  same 
grounds.  A  wide  field  was,  therefore,  opened  to  its  in- 
quiries; and  thus  it  became  possible  for  that  system  of 
knowledge  to  be  founded  and  to  be  developed  by  the  geniu^ 
of  great  men,  to  which  we  rightly  give  the  first  place  among 
philosophical  systems — viz.  that  of  natural  theology,  which, 
setting  out  from  the  idea  of  a  Supreme  Being,  undertakes 
to  prove  that  there  is  a  God  :  that  he  exists  independently 
of  the  world  :  and  that  he  is  the  cause  of  the  existence  of 
the  world.  How  excellently  Melancthon  has  treated  this 
subject  will  be  acknowledged  by  those  who  consult  his  work 
on  physics,  in  which  the  proofs  of  God's  being  and  of  his 
government  of  the  world,  (which  have  been  more  fully  illus- 
trated by  philosophers  of  later  days,)  are  to  be  found  clearly 
and  evidently  set  forth.  And  though  amongst  more  mo- 
dern inquirers  there  may  be  some,  who  have  not  only  used, 
but  abused  the  freedom  procured  them  by  the  heroes  of  the 
Reformation,  and  thus  either  lost  themselves  in  atheism  or 
advanced  far  towards  it,  yet  it  is  an  acknowledged  truth,  that 
the  abuse  should  not  vitiate  the  use  ;  while  the  writings  of 
those  men,  to  whom  not  only  their  own  but  subsequent 
times  have  assigned  the  first  rank  among  philosophers,  afford 
proofs  that  their  speculations  upon  the  nature  of  the  God- 
head were  pursued  in  a  modest  and  reverent  spirit. 

In  the  company,  or  at  least  in  the  train,  of  this  better 
method  of  thinking  and  speaking  of  God  and  religion,  came 
that  improved  philosophy  of  human  life,  which  forms  the 
subject  of  our  second  assertion.  That  the  schools  of  the 
sophists  of  those  days  should,  by  their  undivided  attention 
to  logic,  have  wholly  excluded  practical  philosophy,  was 
naturally  to  be  expected.  This  practical  philosophy  rests 
upon  inquiries  into  the  nature  of  man ;  it  must  be  shown 
what  the  disposition  of  our  nature  and  its  powers  are  :  what 
suits,  what  is  repugnant  to  it,  and  consequently,  what  is  to 
be  desired,  and  what  shunned.  It  must  be  inquired  what 
seeds  of  virtue  or  vice  are  implanted  in  us ;  what  is  the  na- 
ture of  our  passions,  what  the  method  of  controlling  them  ? 
Finally,  in  what  consists  true  happiness,  what  the  object  of 
our  life  should  be,  and  how  we  may  best  attain  it?    Now, 


AS  IT  AFFECTED  PHILOSOPHY. 


309 


although  the  princes  of  Greek  philosophy  had  reasoned  ad- 
mirably upon  all  these  topics,  although  they  had  been  treated 
of  by  Aristotle,  whose  name  was  for  ever  in  their  mouths, 
yet  the  schoolmen  cared  little  for  them,  and  sought  their 
reputation  only  in  useless  disputes. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  therefore,  that  it  was  not  till  the 
light  of  the  Reformation  had  arisen,  that  a  system  of  prac- 
tical philosophy,  really  deserving  of  the  name,  could  be 
formed ;  especially  as  regards  that  branch  of  it,  which  is 
rightly  considered  the  most  important — the  philosophy  of 
moral  conduct.  Here,  too,  Melancthon  first  broke  the  ground 
in  his  "  Elements  of  Ethics,"  which  appeared  at  Wittenberg 
in  the  year  1550 ;  and  in  which  he  forsakes  his  usual  adher- 
ence to  Aristotle,  and  after  refuting  the  doctrines  of  Epi- 
curus and  the  Stoics,  defines  virtue  to  be  the  obedience  of 
the  will  to  such  rules  of  action  as  are  in  practical  accord- 
ance with  the  commands  of  God.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
remark,  that  no  other  branch  of  philosophy  has  been  culti- 
vated with  greater  diligence  or  success  among  the  more 
enlightened  nations — the  Germans,  the  French,  and  the 
English  ;  a  point  upon  which  we  may  justly  pride  ourselves, 
since  none  is  more  adapted  to  the  nature  and  wants  of  men. 
Time  and  place  forbid  the  enumeration  of  the  writings  of 
those  immortal  authors,  especially  those  of  Great  Britain, 
who  have  treated  of  it ;  of  whom  we  may  say,  as  the  Greeks 
did  of  Socrates,  that  by  their  means  philosophy  has  been 
called  down  from  heaven  to  walk  upon  the  earth. 

The  Reformation  may,  therefore,  justly  claim  the  credit 
of  having  applied  philosophy  to  the  improvement  of  moral- 
ity ;  and,  generally,  of  having  brought  it  back  to  the  com- 
mon purposes  of  life.  It  was  no  longer  wasted  upon  the 
solution  of  problems,  which  required  acuteness  perhaps,  but 
which,  to  use  Melancthon's  expression,  had  no  correspondent 
realities.  It  did  not,  however,  confine  itself  within  the  limits 
of  private  life,  but  having  once  emerged  from  the  gloom  of 
the  schools  into  the  light  of  day,  undertook  the  improvement 
of  public  life.  The  example  was  set  in  Great  Britain,  and 
speedily  followed  elsewhere,  of  discussing  those  most  import- 
ant questions  which  relate  to  the  constitutions  of  states,  their 
administration  and  government;  and  out  of  this  we  have 
seen  a  new  and  improved  order  of  things  proceed,  not  only 


310 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


311 


in  Europe,  as  in  Great  Britain,  the  Netherlands,  and  else- 
where, but  even  beyond  the  ocean,  in  America,  where  the 
seeds  of  new  constitutions  were  sown,  and  are  now  in  the 
perfection  of  their  growth.  To  trace  this  out,  however,  is 
the  province  of  history  ;  for  my  part,  I  conceive  that  I  have 
sufficiently  proved  the  proposition  from  which  I  set  out, 
and  to  which  I  return :  viz.  That  by  those  who  follow  the 
banners  of  philosophy,  the  day,  which  we  are  now  celebrat- 
ing, must  be  accounted  a  festival — a  festival  dedicated  to 
events  which  have  procured  us  that  without  which  there  can 
be  no  philosophy,  and  no  true  enjoyment  of  life — "  The 
right  of  thinking  as  we  will,  and  of  speaking  as  we  think'' 


ON   THE 


RISE,  PROGRESS,  AND  PRACTICAL  INFLUENCE 

OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES, 


AND    ON    THE 


PRESERVATION  OF  MONARCHICAL  PRINCIPLES 

IN  MODERN  EUROPE. 

If  we  except  the  last  ten  years  of  the  past  century  from  our 
review,  we  shall  find  that  the  states  which  composed  the 
political  system  of  modern  Europe,  were  constituted  without 
any  reference  to  general  theory ;  they  arose  for  the  most 
part  out  of  the  feudal  system,  and  gradually  accommodated 
themselves  to  the  circumstances  which  new  times  and  new 
events  produced.  It  would  therefore  be  idle  to  expect  that 
any,  even  the  most  perfect  of  them,  should  correspond  with 
an  abstract  theory  of  government.  The  spread  of  intellec- 
tual acquirements,  however,  produced  in  several  of  these 
states  an  attention  to  political  reasonings,  and  these  in  turn 
led  to  speculative  systems,  and  schemes  of  new  constitutions. 
The  influence  of  the  latter  began,  long  before  the  disturb- 
ances of  our  own  day,  to  exercise  a  political  influence,  and 
this  at  last  became  so  great  that  it  has  been  customary  to 


attribute  those  violent  revolutions  which  caused  the  ruin 
of  more  than  one  existing  government,  to  these  very  spe- 
culations. 

The  questions  which  I  propose  to  examine  are,  "  How  the 
spirit  of  inquiry  with  regard  to  distinctions  in  the  forms  of 
government  first  arose  in  modern  Europe?"  "How  this 
became  the  source  of  political  reasoning  ?"  *'  How  this  again 
formed  the  base  of  abstract  theories  ? "  "  What  practical 
influence  the  latter  exerted  generally ;  and  what  in  parti- 
cular upon  the  late  revolutions  ? "  With  these  another,  and 
that  of  the  highest  practical  importance,  becomes  naturally 
associated,  viz.  "  What  is  requisite  for  the  maintenance  of 
the  monarchical  principle  in  constitutional  governments?" 
In  this  case  the  inquiry  will  be  directed  only  to  the  ''  consti- 
tution," not  to  the  administration,  of  power  in  the  different 
states" — no  thinking  man,  however,  can  regard  this  subject 
with  indifference :  I  only  hope  that  the  mode  in  which  it  is 
treated  may  be  equal  to  its  importance  ! 

It  might  at  first  sight  appear  as  though  a  reference  to 
actual  history  would  be  a  superfluous  labour ;  speculation,  it 
may  be  urged,  arose  of  itself,  and  was  independent  of  reality. 
Why  then  turn  to  it  for  assistance  ?  We  shall  soon,  how- 
ever, perceive  that  this  was  not  the  case ;  and  that,  if  the 
spirit  of  political  speculation  did  rise  above  the  politics  of 
the  day,  it  was  from  the  latter  that  it  derived  its  origin,  and 
that  it  never  became  wholly  independent  of  them.  These 
questions,  therefore,  will  admit  of  no  other  solution  than 
what  may  be  obtained  by  connecting  them  with  history, 
and  drawing  our  answers,  in  part  at  least,  from  it. 

In  order  to  create  a  spirit  of  political  speculation  it  is  ne- 
cessary that  there  should  be  some  outward  stimulant,  as  well 
as  a  considerable  degree  of  philosophical  education  in  the 
people  among  whom  it  is  to  arise. 

The  external  causes  which  induce  thought  and  argument 
on  these  subjects,  are  struggles,  when  such  take  place,  with 
regard  to  the  forms  of  the  constitution.  The  neighbourhood 
of  various  states  governed  in  various  manners,  with  the  re- 
lations and  contrasts  between  them — and  above  all,  the  form- 
ation of  new  states  by  colonization. 

If  to  these  qualifications,  habits  of  philosophical  inquiry 


312 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


of  a  higher  order  be  added,  should  men  have  taught  them- 
selves to  rise  from  the  particular  to  the  general,  from  facts 
to  principles,  the  path  is  opened  for  political  speculation. 

It  was  thus  that  it  arose  and  perfected  itself  among  the 
Greeks,  where  external  causes  were  so  many  and  so  various. 
— And  in  support  of  this  view  its  opposite  was  sufficiently- 
proved  during  the  middle  ages,  throughout  which  it  was 
impossible  that  any  traces  of  such  speculations  should  ap- 
pear.— The  feudal  systems,  strictly  so  called,  admitted  of  no 
free  citizenships,  and  allowed  no  varieties  of  government. — 
That  which  was  dignified  by  the  name  of  freedom,  was  in 
general  nothing  but  a  contest  of  the  nobility  against  their 
princes,  which  if  it  failed,  begot  a  despotism  ;  if  it  succeeded, 
was  the  signal  of  club-law  and  anarchy. 

Amid  such  scenes  as  these,  there  was  little  room  for  poli- 
tical speculation,  even  if  the  total  absence  of  philosophical 
ideas  had  not  rendered  it  impossible. 

Among  those  countries  in  which  it  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  give  the  earliest  signs  of  life,  Italy  was  undoubt- 
edly the  first ;  all  the  ordinary  causes  appear  to  have  united 
here — a  number  of  small  states  arose  near  each  other — re- 
publican constitutions  were  established — political  parties 
were  every  where  at  work  and  at  variance ;  and  with  all 
this,  the  arts  and  sciences  were  in  the  full  splendour  of  their 
revival. 

The  appearance  of  Italy  in  the  fifteenth  century  recalls 
most  fully  the  picture  of  ancient  Greece.  And  yet  in  Italy 
political  theories  were  as  few,  as  in  Greece  they  had  been 
many  !  a  result  both  unexpected  and  difficult  to  explain. 

Still,  however,  I  think  that  this  phenomenon  may  be  in  a 
great  part  accounted  for,  if  we  remember  that  there  never 
was  a  philosophical  system  of  character  or  influence  which 
prospered  under  the  sky  of  Italy.  No  nation  of  civilized 
Europe  has  given  birth  to  so  few  theories  as  the  Italian — 
none  has  had  less  genius  for  such  pursuits. — The  history  of 
the  Roman  philosophy,  a  mere  echo  of  the  Grecian,  proves 
this  of  its  earlier  ages,  nor  was  it  otherwise  in  its  later. 

At  the  revival  of  science  Plato  and  Aristotle  were  the 
chief  and  only  guides,  and  even  when  the  trammels  of  this 
superstition  had  been  broken  through,  Italy  produced  no 
original  minds  whose  life  and  works  formed  an  era  in  phi- 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


313 


losophy. — If,  then,  speculative  science  in  general  made  no 
<rreat  advance  here,  we  cannot  reasonably  expect  that  that 
part  of  it  which  has  reference  to  politics  should  have  made 
any,  since,  from  its  very  nature,  it  must  be  one  of  the  last 
branches  which  are  put  forth  from  that  stock. 

This  incapacity  for  theory,  however,  had  the  eflfect  of  di- 
recting the  Italians  more  immediately  to  practice,  and  they 
were  considered  the  deepest  and  most  accomplished  poli- 
ticians of  Europe.— But  as  they  held  diplomacy  to  be  an 
empty  name,  unless  it  included  cunning  and  intrigue,  they 
by  this  view  offered  another  impediment  to  a  right  cultiva- 
tion of  the  subject. 

Their  highest  principles  of  policy  were  nothing  better 
than  a  collection  of  maxims,  and  these  never  ripened,  nor 
could  ripen,  into  a  science.  The  only  writer  of  that  period 
who  need  be  mentioned  here,  is  Machiavel ;  and  his  works 
afford  the  strongest  confirmation  of  what  we  advance. — His 
''  Principe,"  and  his  "  Discorsi  sopra  Livio,"'  are  full  of 
reasoning  such  as  we  have  described,  the  result  partly  of 
his  historical  studies,  partly  of  his  own  experience  ;  and 
they  contain  sufficient  evidence  that  a  practical  attention  to 
history  was  in  force  at  this  period,  and  that  the  Italians  were 
likely  enough   to   prove   good   historians,   but   not   great 

theorists. 

The  first  quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century  witnessed  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Reformation.  I  have  endeavoured  in  a 
former  treatise  to  prove  the  fact,  and  point  out  the  manner 
of  its  acquiring  a  political  tendency ;  I  have  also  followed 
up  its  practical  results.  That,  by  its  influence  on  Germany, 
on  the  Netherlands,  on  England,  and  for  a  considerable 
period  on  France,  it  became  the  origin  of  political  freedom 
in  Europe,  can  be  a  matter  of  doubt  only  to  those  who 
"having  eyes,  see  not;"  and  this  once  admitted,  it  will  not 
be  difficult  to  show  that  the  same  causes  led  to  its  being  the 
origin  of  political  speculation  also. 

Meantime,  however,  we  must  remember,  that  the  very 
essence  of  the  Reformation,  and  the  first  direction  of  its 
power,  rendered  it  impossible  that  this  should  be  the  case, 

•  [This  critique  appears  to  have  escaped  M.  Artaud  in  his  laborious  trea- 
tise on  the  hfe  and  works  of  the  Florentine  secretary.  But  to  judge  from 
the  manner  in  which  he  has  met  some  similar  observations  of  Raumer,  it  is 
one  to  which  Machiavel's  most  ardent  admirers  can  hardly  object.  See  Ma- 
chiavel, son  Genie  et  ses  Erreurs,par  M.  Artaud,  vol.  ii.  p.  490.    Tr.] 


! 


S14 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


either  immediately,  or  even  mediately,  without  some  interval 
of  time — the  activity  to  which  it  aroused  the  human  intellect 
was  exerted  then,  and  long  after,  upon  subjects  wholly  un- 
connected with  political  speculation.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
dwell  upon  this  point  here,  for  who  can  be  ignorant,  that 
for  a  considerable  time  religious  controversies,  and  those 
alone,  were  capable  of  exciting  general  interest  ?  Still,  how- 
ever, all  this  being  admitted,  it  cannot  but  seem  strange,  that 
the  great  practical  influence  which  the  Reformation  exercised 
upon  the  constitution  of  the  various  states,  should  have  been 
so  partially  and  so  slowly  followed  by  any  attempt  at  theory 
on  the  principles  of  their  formation. 

I  do  not  speak  of  Germany — here  the  point  in  dispute 
was  the  relation  which  should  exist  between  the  states  and 
the  emperor,  and,  as  immediately  connected  with  it,  that 
between  the  Protestant  and  the  Catholic  parties — and  this 
the  sword  decided. 

But  the  state  in  which  such  views  might  have  been  first 

expected,  was  the  republic  of  the  United  Netherlands. The 

Reformation  called  that  state  into  existence— the  banner  of 
liberty  was  there  formally  displayed — republican  maxims 
were  those  chiefly  adopted  and  cherished — the  state  itself 
became  deeply  involved  in  the  general  politics  of  the  day, 
and  knowledge  was  at  the  same  time  busy  among  its  mem- 
bers ;  and  yet  the  speculative  part  of  government  was  left 
almost  wholly  untouched ! 

The  causes  of  this,  however,  will  soon  become  evident  if 
we  look  to  the  main  object  of  the  revolution  by  whose  means 
that  state  was  formed  :  innovations  in  the  constitution  were 
the  last  things  it  had  in  view— it  struggled  rather  to  main- 
tain and  assert  the  old  rights  and  privileges  of  the  states  * 
necessity  alone  induced  the  Netherlands  to  shake  off*  their 
allegiance  to  the  king  of  Spain ;  that  accomplished,  they 
turned  to  seek  other  masters,  and  the  states  finally  became  re- 
publican, merely  because  they  could  find  none.  Was  it  likely, 
then,  that  political  theories  should  spring  up  here,  where  no 
new  schemes  of  government  called  for  their  interference? 

In  the  mean  time,  however,  the  republic  had  a  long  struo-- 
gle  for  independence  to  maintain. — It  came  in  various  con- 
tact with  foreign  powers,  and  was  more  or  less  connected 
with  the  great  wars  of  the  time. 

Though  no  questions,  therefore,  were  raised  as  to  the  dif- 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


315 


ferent  forms  of  the  constitution,  yet  it  was  impossible  but 
that  some  should  arise  as  to  the  mutual  rights  and  relations 

of  states. 

This  subject  received  the  attention  of  one  of  the  repub- 
lics  greatest  citizens,  and  produced  the  famous  work  of 
Hugo  Grotius  "  De  Jure  Belli  et  Pacis." 

It  is  true  that  this  treatise  led  its  author  into  some  re- 
searches, respecting  the  natural  rights  of  man,  and  the  prin- 
ciples on  which  they  are  founded,  without  which  he  thought 
he  could  not  attain  to  a  just  view  of  his  subject.  But  the 
theory  of  civil  government  could  gain  little  from  a  work  de- 
voted to  another  and  separate  inquiry  ;  while  the  manner  in 
which  this  inquiry  itself  is  conducted,  is  by  no  means  at- 
tractive to  readers  of  our  own  time. 

Grotius  was  more  a  man  of  learning  than  a  philosopher, 
and  he  has  encumbered  his  work  with  a  mass  of  historical 
and  philological  research,  which  could  not  possibly  turn  to 
its  advantage. — Still,  however,  it  must  rank  among  the  high- 
est efforts,  not  only  of  his  own,  but  of  all  subsequent  times ; 
for  it  was  no  mean  advantage  to  point  out  that  there  is,  or 
at  least  that  there  ought  to  be,  a  law  of  nations.  Moreover, 
the  great  name  which  Grotius  had  acquired,  and  which  as- 
sociated him,  not  only  with  the  most  distinguished  men  of 
learning,  but,  as  a  statesman,  with  the  princes  and  courts  of 
his  day°  secured  his  principles  an  admittance  into  the  circle 
in  which  they  were  most  likely  to  obtain  a  ready  practical 
influence.^ 

•  [The  following  defence  of  Grotius  is  interesting,  as  coming  from  the  pen 
of  the  late  Sir  James  Mackintosh  :  and  it  will  be  the  more  appreciated  as  the 
pamphlet  from  which  it  is  taken  is  now  rarely  to  be  met  with. 

"  Few  works  were  more  celebrated  than  that  of  Grotius  in  his  own  days, 
and  the  age  which  succeeded.  It  has,  however,  been  the  fashion  of  the  last 
half  century  to  depreciate  his  work  as  a  shapeless  compilation,  in  which 
reason  lies  buried  under  a  mass  of  authorities  and  quotations.  This  fashion 
originated  among  French  wits  and  declaimers,  and  it  has  been,  I  know  not 
for  what  reason,  adopted,  though  with  far  greater  moderation  and  decency, 
by  some  respectable  writers  among  ourselves.  As  to  those  who  first  used  this 
language,  the  most  candid  supposition  that  we  can  make  with  respect  to  them, 
is,  that  they  never  read  the  work  ;  for  if  they  had  not  been  deterred  from  the 
perusal  of  it  by  such  a  formidable  display  of  Greek  characters,  they  must 
soon  have  discovered  that  Grotius  never  quotes  on  any  subject  till  he  has  first 
appealed  to  some  principles;  and  often,  in  my  humble  opinion,  though  not 
always,  to  the  soundest  and  most  rational  principles. 

But  another  sort  of  answer  is  due  to  some  of  those  who  *  have  criticized 


*  Palet,  pref  to  Moral  and  Political  Philosophy  (to  whom  we  may  add  Prof. 
Heeren,  in  the  passage  of  the  text). 


316 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


317 


The  treatise  "  De  Jure  Belli  et  Pacis"  may,  on  the  whole, 
be  considered  as  a  fair  earnest  of  what  the  spreading  intelli- 
gence of  the  day  might  eventually  produce. 

The  religious  disturbances  and  wars  of  the  Hugonots  in 
France  took  place  at  the  same  time  as  the  establishment  of  the 
republic  of  the  Netherlands,  and  appear  to  have  been  much 
more  calculated  to  excite  a  spirit  of  political  speculation. 

It  was  question  here  not  only  of  preserving  what  was  old, 
but  of  forming  what  was  new.  The  Hugonot  party,  if  it 
never  actually  established  a  republic,  was  yet  much  more 
inclined  to  republicanism  than  the  insurgents  of  the  Nether- 
lands.— But  then  the  times  of  civil  war  are  not  the  times  of 
quiet  contemplation,  and  of  theory ;  and  as  the  tumult  be- 
came more  wild,  the  pursuits  of  literature  gave  way  wholly 
to  violence  and  bloodshed,  or,  if  they  still  attracted  atten- 
tion, it  was  only  for  purposes  of  theological  debate. 

Still,  amidst  these  disturbances,  one  writer  made  his  ap- 
pearance, who  attracted  too  much  notice  to  be  lightly  passed 
over. — This  was  John  Bodin,^  the  author  of  a  work  "  De 
Republica;"  he  was  not  only  a  man  of  learning,  but  took  a 
share  in  the  transactions  of  the  time,  and  spoke  in  favour  of 
the  Hugonots,  whose  religion  he  had  from  the  first  embraced, 
at  the  diet  of  Blois. — This  did  not,  however,  prevent  him 

Grotius,  and  that  answer  might  be  given  in  the  words  of  Grotius  himself. 
He  was  not  of  such  a  stupid  and  servile  cast  of  mind,  as  to  quote  the  opinions 
of  poets  or  orators,  of  historians  and  philosophers,  as  those  of  judges  from 
whose  decision  there  was  no  appeal.  He  quotes  them,  as  he  tells  us  himself, 
as  witnesses,  whose  conspiring  testimony,  mightily  strengthened  by  their  dis- 
cordance on  almost  every  other  subject,  is  a  conclusive  proof  of  the  unanimity 
of  the  whole  human  race  on  the  great  rules  of  duty,  and  the  fundamental 
principles  of  morals.  On  such  matters  poets  and  orators  are  the  most  unex- 
ceptionable of  all  witnesses ;  for  they  address  themselves  to  the  general  feel- 
ing and  sympathies  of  mankind;  they  are  neither  warped  by  system,  nor 
perverted  by  sophistry ;  they  can  attain  none  of  their  objects  ;  they  can  nei- 
ther please  nor  persuade  if  they  dwell  on  moral  sentiments  not  in  unison  with 
those  of  their  reader :  no  system  of  moral  philosophy  can  surely  disregard  the 
general  feelings  of  human  nature,  and  the  according  judgments  of  all  ages 
and  nations.  But  where  are  those  feelings  and  that  judgment  recorded  and 
observed  ?  In  those  very  writings  which  Grotius  is  gravely  blamed  for  having 
quoted.  The  usages  and  laws  of  nations,  the  events  of  history,  the  opinions 
of  philosophers,  the  sentiments  of  orators  and  poets,  as  well  as  the  observ- 
ation of  common  life,  are,  in  truth,  the  materials  out  of  which  the  science  of 
morality  is  formed;  and  those  who  neglect  them  are  justly  chargeable  with  a 
vain  attempt  to  philosophize,  without  regard  to  fact  and  experience,  the  sole 
foundations  of  all  true  philosophy." — A  Discourse  on  the  Study  of  the  Law  of 
Nature  and  Nations^  etc.,  p.  I7.     Tr.] 

'  JoHANNis  BoDiNi,  Be  Rep.  lib.  vi.,  first  published  in  French,  1576,  but 
revised,  enlarged,  and  translated  into  Latin  by  himself,  1584.  JBodin  was 
bom  1529,  and  died  1596. 


from  being  much  esteemed  by  Henry  III.,  with  whose  brother, 
Francis  of  Alen^on,  he  was  still  more  intimately  connected. 
As  a  political  writer  he  claims  a  distinguished  place ;  in- 
deed, few  have  surpassed  him  in  philosophical  distinctness 
of  ideas,  or  in  a  general,  and  at  the  same  time  accurate,  ac- 
quaintance with  the  constitutions  both  of  ancient  and  mo- 
dern times.  The  whole  course  of  his  inquiry  bears  a  certain 
resemblance  to  that  pursued  by  Aristotle,  but  he  is  far  from 
being  a  servile  imitator,  and  it  is  undeniable  that  he  materi- 
ally advanced  the  science  of  government. 

Some  of  its  most  important  principles  he  was  the  first  to 
embrace  and  define.     He  begins  from  a  conception  of  the 
state  as  "  a  number  of  families,  whose  common  concerns  are 
directed  by  a  supreme  power,  justly  exercised."     The  su- 
preme power  consists  in  "  the  right  of  makmg  laws,  and 
seeing  that  these  are  executed."'     We  here  find  the  germ 
of  that  principle  of  the  distinction  between  the  two  powers 
(the  legislative  and  the  executive)  which  owes  its  fiill  and 
careful  development  to  later  writers.     He  was  the  first  who 
asserted  the  "  Indivisibility'  of  the  supreme  power  or  sove- 
reignty," (Majestas,)  from  which  he  argued  that  the  common 
opinions  with  respect  to  mixed  governments,  rested  upon 
entirely  false  grounds,  since  these  are  impossible  without  a 
separation  of  the  sovereignty.     He  has  defined  more  accu- 
rately the  limits  of  what  we  term  "  absolute  monarchy, 
(regia  potestas,)"  of  "  despotism,"  and  of  "  tyranny,"  than 
any'  subsequent  writers.    He  has  the  great  merit  of  having 
put  in  a  clear  light  one  of  the  most  important  truths  of 
o-overnment,  and  one  to  which  he  was  himself  much  attach- 
ed, (viz.)  "  That  the  form  of  the  constitution  will  not  afford 
any  direct  argument  as  to  the  spirit  in  which  a  state  is  go- 
verned, and  that  the  latter  may  be  very  republican  in  a  state 
which  is  properly  monarchical,*  as  well  as  despotic  under 
the  forms  of  a  republic."     Finally,  he  was  the  first  who, 
carefully  avoiding  to  set  up  any  perfect  ideal  constitution, 
which  he  would  every  where  apply,  gave  a  full  explanation 
of  all  the  circumstances  of  climate  and  of  national  peculiari- 
ties, whether  mental  or  bodily,  which  ought  to  be  consi- 
dered in  framing  the  constitution  of  a  state.^  ^ 

'  De  Republica,  lib.  ii.  p.  275.       '  lb.  lib.  ii.  p.  275.       '  lb.  lib  ii.  p.  313,  sq. 

'  lb.  hb.  ii.  p.  305,  sq.  /  ^h^'^'J'  ^'Pl'  ^%  ,u^  f^rr. 

•  [Although  Bodin  may  be  deservedly  praised  for  the  adoption  of  the  iv^o 


318 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


This  division  of  his  work  would  do  no  discredit  to  Mon- 
tesquieu himself,  whose  precursor,  and  that  no  unworthy 
one,  he  was. 

Notwithstanding  these  and  other  undeniable  merits,  and 
in  spite  of  the  approbation  which  it  drew  from  the  best  of 
his  contemporaries,'  Bodin's  work  did  not  attain  to  that 
practical  influence  which  it  deserved. 

The  seed  which  he  scattered  fell  upon  a  soil  as  yet  too 
little  prepared  to  receive  it,  and  the  observation  before  made, 
that  political  speculation  can  never  support  itself  except  in 
connexion  with  philosophy,  is  here  remarkably  established. 
The  nation  was  not  yet  ripe. 

The  state  of  France,  during  the  seventeenth  century,  was 
not  such  as  to  lead  us  to  expect  the  requisite  maturity.  As 
soon  as  the  Hugonots  were  suppressed,  or  at  least  disarmed, 
Richelieu  laid  the  foundation  of  the  absolute  power  of  the 
crown,  and  Lewis  XIV.  confirmed  it  without  any  further  re- 
sistance from  the  people.  Even  if  a  spirit  of  political  in- 
quiry had  by  chance  arisen  among  individuals,  where  was 
It  to  find  means  of  increase  ?  Surely  not  among  a  people 
who  not  only  submitted  without  a  murmur  to  the  fetters 
which  were  imposed  upon  them,  but  who  went  so  far  in 
their  greediness  for  fame  rather  than  freedom,  as  to  be 
proud  of  the  chains  they  wore. 

We  must,  therefore,  turn  to  another  land,  to  one  in 
which,  by  the  concurrence  of  more  fortunate  circumstances, 
the  theory  of  civil  government  became  fully  developed,  and 
acquired  a  great  practical  influence— an  influence  moreover 
exerted  rather  to  preserve  than  to  destroy— I  mean  to 
England.  ' 

It  might  be  mentioned  here  almost  without  a  rival,  were 
It  not  that  Geneva,  the  smallest  state  in  Europe,  makes  its 
pre-eminence  in  this  respect  somewhat  doubtful. 

The  progress  which  the  theory  of  government  made  in 
l^ngland  is  mainly  attributable  to  the  circumstances  of  that 

last  points  and  for  the  expansion  of  the  former  of  them,  he  is  indebted  to 
Aristotle  s  Pohtics  for  the  sound  philosophy  by  which  th^y  are  distinguish^ 
ed.  Aristotle  it  is  true,  has  drawn  a  picture  of  the  government  under  Ihich 
he  imagines  the  greatest  happiness  maybe  obtained,  but  he  has  expressly 
stated  what  previous  conditions  are  necessary  to  its  formation,  andho4  unfit 
It  would  be  for  a  society  m  which  these  were  wanting.     Tr  1 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


319 


country,  and  to  understand  these  we  must  give  a  cursory 
glance  at  the  history  of  its  constitution.  This  was  at  first  a 
branch  of  the  great  feudal  system,  which  was  the  origin  of 
most  of  the  European  governments,  and  which  had  been  in- 
troduced in  its  full  rigour  by  William  the  Conqueror  in 
1066,  when  he  took  possession  of  England.  The  feudal 
customs  fell  into  disuse  here,  as  elsewhere,  for  the  vassals 
were  not  slow  in  taking  advantage  of  the  circumstances  of 
the  times,  and  even  under  the  immediate  successors  of  the 
Conqueror  obtained  considerable  privileges,  which,  by  de- 
grees, ripened  into  a  formal  warrant  of  their  liberties,  and 
were  embodied  in  Magna  Charta  (1215). 

It  was  not,  however,  the  armed  opposition  which  the  no- 
bles offered  to  their  sovereign,  for  this  was  of  much  more 
frequent  occurrence  in  other  countries  :  nor  was  it  the 
growth  of  a  middle  order :  nor  yet  the  representation  of  this 
order  in  parliament,  which  gave  to  the  British  constitution 
its  peculiar  character ;  for  all  these  phenomena  are  to  be 
found  alike  in  the  French  and  Spanish  histories.  The  causes 
of  it  lay  in  the  different  shape  which  rank  assumed  in  Eng- 
land^  compared  with  other  countries,  in  the  variety  of  re- 
lations which  existed  between  the  nobles  and  commons,  and 
by  means  of  which  it  became  possible  to  co7istitute  the  Lower 
House  in  such  a  form  as  it  afterwards  assumed. 

We  might  expect  that  a  subject,  which  has  received  so 
much  attention  from  the  best  writers,  should  be  clearly  un- 
derstood, but  it  neither  is,  nor  indeed  ever  will  be. 

The  early  history  of  the  British  parliament,  especially 
during  the  thirteenth  century,  when  its  limits  were  first  de- 
fined, is  more  scantily  supplied  from  original  documents 
than  can  well  be  beheved.  And  yet  this  ought  not  to  aston- 
ish us  if  we  remember  that  in  England,  as  in  other  coun- 
tries of  Europe,  during  the  middle  ages,  no  institution  of  any 
note  arose  at  once  and  from  a  preconcerted  scheme,  but 
that  they  were  all  of  gradual  formation,  and  dependent  on 
the  changes  of  men's  wants  and  circumstances.  Thus  many 
things  which  afterwards  became  of  the  highest  importance 
were  very  far  from  being,  or,  at  least,  from  appearing  so,  at 
first :  and  it  was  consequently  impossible  for  the  chroniclers 
of  the  day  to  perceive  the  advantage  of  recording  them. 
We  must  be  content,  therefore,  to  receive  such  accounts  of 


320 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


the  British  parliament  as  we  have  of  the  other  institutions  of 
the  middle  ages. 

The  separation  of  the  higher  from  the  lower  nobility  took 
place  in  other  countries  of  Europe  as  well  as  in  England, 
but  in  no  other  country  did  the  latter  so  entirely  unite  with 
the  middle  orders,  as  to  rank  with  them  in  one  house,  and 
become  thus  wholly  distinct  from  the  peers.  But  if  the 
question  be  proposed,  as  to  How  the  separation  of  the  upper 
and  lower  nobles  actually  took  place  ?  if  it  be  asked  How  it 
happened  that  the  inferior  nobles  sent  deputies  chosen  from 
the  counties  instead  of  appearing  in  person  ?  When  this  first 
became  customary  ?  When  the  towns  first  returned  mem- 
bers ?  (not  when  they  are  first  noticed  by  the  chroniclers  as 
having  done  so.) — And,  lastly,  When  and  how  the  deputies 
from  the  counties  became  united  in  one  body  with  those 
from  the  towns? — We  can  only  say  that  the  most  careful 
inquirers  into  British  history  can  give  nothing  but  probable 
surmises  on  the  subject,  and  are  totally  unable  to  support 
their  opinions  by  any  historical  references.  This  general 
uncertainty  will  be  at  once  evident  to  any  one  who  will  ex- 
amine the  various  and  very  different  accounts  which  are 
given  by  English  historians  of  the  origin  of  their  constitu- 
tion. Some,  and  those  of  the  first  rank,  have  not  scrupled 
seriously  to  assert,  that  the  early  Britons  brought  their 
liberties  with  them  from  the  forests  in  which  they  dwelt ! 

Without  going  more  deeply  into  these  questions,  which 
would  be  here  misplaced,  it  is  suflficient  to  remark,  that  the 
British  constitution  had  received  the  impress  of  its  most  im- 
portant characters  long  before  England  could  boast  of  any 
degree  of  political  liberty  superior  to  that  enjoyed  by  other 
states.  It  had  its  Upper  House  composed  of  the  lords  spiri- 
tual and  temporal,  and  its  Lower  House  composed  of  members 
for  the  towns  and  counties;  but  what  was  this  great  parlia- 
ment, not  only  before  the  time  of  the  Tudors,  but  even 
under  their  dominion,  except  an  instrument  of  command, 
which  Henry  VH.  andVHL,  and  their  successor  Elizabeth, 
knew  most  excellently  how  to  apply  to  the  furtherance  of 
their  own  designs  ? 

Here,  again,  we  have  a  palpable  example  how  little  we 
may  argue  from  the  form  to  the  spirit  of  a  government ; 
meantime,  however,  this  form  was  more  perfect  than  could 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


321 


be  found  elsewhere,  and  it  needed  only  a  confluence  of  for- 
tunate events  to  give  it  life,  and  breathe  sentiments  of  free- 
dom into  the  people. 

This  the  Reformation  effected. — Not  only  by  it  was  the 
religion  of  the  land  altered,  but  its  political  greatness,  under 
the  reign  and  guidance  of  EHzabeth,  securely  founded.  By 
this  greatness^  the  spirit  of  the  people  became  awakened ; 
but  as  it  did  not  proceed  immediately  from  the  constitution, 
it  was  necessary  that  the  latter  should  receive  a  shock,  nay, 
for  a  time,  a  total  overthrow,  before  it  could  be  fully  appre- 
ciated, and  by  being  restored,  and  at  the  same  time  indisso- 
lubly  connected  with  religion,  could  be  looked  up  to  as  the 
palladium  of  British  freedom. 

The  history  of  the  troubles  which  produced  the  civil  war, 
which  overturned  the  throne,  and  which  terminated  with  the 
restoration,  are  sufficiently  known,  and  require  barely  to  be 
alluded  to.  The  only  question  in  connexion  with  which  they 
have  any  interest  here,  refers  to  the  probable  causes  of  their 
having  been  more  favourable  to  the  development  of  political 
speculation  than  the  disturbances  of  any  other  country,  and 
that  in  such  a  degree  as  to  have  produced  and  matured  some 
of  its  noblest  fruits. 

The  obvious  reason  of  this,  in  my  opinion,  is,  that  the 
troubles  and  wars  in  England  were  not  brought  about,  as  in 
other  countries,  merely  by  practical  grievances,  but  that 
they  depended,  from  the  first,  upon  theoretical  points  of  dis- 
pute, which  necessarily  led  to  more  extended  inquiries. 

Thus,  when  the  Stuarts  mounted  the  British  throne,  (1603,) 
they  brought  with  them  a  maxim  which  was  preserved  and 
passed  from  father  to  son  as  an  heirloom,  and  which  James  I. 
was  imprudent  enough  to  assert  upon  every  occasion,  even 
in  open  parliament,  viz.  "  That  the  kingly  power  emanated 
for  God — that  it  was  therefore  absolute,  or  if  not  actually 
so,  that  it  ought  of  right  to  be  so — that  what  were  termed 
the  "  rights"  of  the  people  and  the  parliament,  were  not  pro- 
perly so  called,  but  merely  grants  and  privileges,  which  had 
been  allowed  to  them  by  the  crown,  and  which  the  crown 
might  therefore  resume  as  easily  as  it  had  bestowed  them." 
These  principles,  however,  were  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
ideas  which  the  Reformation   had   rendered   current,  and 

'  See  the  treatise  On  the  Political  Consequences  of  the  Reformation, 

Y 


322 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


which  had  more  particularly  obtained  with  the  Presbyterian 
and  Puritanic  parties,  then  rapidly  spreading  in  England, 
and  which  from  the  form  of  their  religious  government  were 
inclined  to  carry  republican,  and  even  democratic,  principles 
into  the  government  of  the  state.  Elizabeth  had  entertained 
no  less  exalted  an  idea  of  her  power  than  the  two  first 
Stuarts,  in  fact  she  had  exercised  it  with  more  freedom  than 
they :  but  then  she  had  avoided  what  the  pedantic  folly  of 
James  I.  led  him  to  indulge  in,  and  had  not  brought  her 
maxims  before  the  public,  and  thus  made  a  common  talk  of 
matters,  which  the  interest  of  princes  should  teach  them  to 
conceal  as  the  mysteries  of  their  craft,  the  "  Arcana  domi- 
nationis." 

These  principles,  and  the  collisions  between  the  king  and 
the  parliament,  which  resulted  from  them,  formed  the  train 
which  lighted  up  England  with  the  flames  of  civil  war.  They 
brought  Charles  to  the  scaffold,  and  overturned  the  throne. 
But  even  when  the  restoration  had  caused  a  seeming  tran- 
quillity, the  fire  still  smouldered  in  its  ashes.  The  restor- 
ation was  rather  the  work  of  party  spirit,  and  of  a  passing 
change  in  public  opinion,  effected  by  the  experience  of 
anarchy  and  the  despotism  of  the  sword,  than  of  calm  and 
well-exercised  reason. 

The  opportunity  which  then  presented  itself  of  amending 
the  defects  of  the  constitution  passed  by  unemployed.  And 
Charles  II.  received  the  crown  on  the  same  doubtful  under- 
standing of  its  authority,  as  that  on  which  it  had  been  held 
by  his  ancestors.  Would  that  he  had  been  as  worthy  of  it 
even  as  his  unfortunate  father  !  As  it  was,  he  adopted  the 
very  principles  which  cost  the  latter  his  life,  while  he  en- 
hanced their  tendency  to  despotism  by  his  own  disposition 
to  enforce  them.  The  attempt  of  his  brother  to  introduce 
tyranny  and  priestcraft,  and  the  consequences  of  his  folly, 
need  hardly  be  alluded  to. 

Every  circumstance  of  the  time— the  continued  disturb- 
ances—the party  distinction  of  Whigs  and  Tories  in  which 
they  ended — the  rapid  growth  of  literature  under  Charles  II., 
all  conspired  to  advance  political  speculations  to  the  utmost. 
— But  as  these  speculations  proceeded  immediately  from  the 
practical  affairs  of  life,  it  was  unavoidable  that  they  should 
carry  some  traces  of  their  origin  along  with  them.      The 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


S2S 


questions  chiefly  debated  were  those  to  which  the  transac- 
tions of  the  day  naturally  led,  and  the  decision  of  which  was 
invested  with  a  direct  practical  importance.  All  these  ques- 
tions may  be  reduced  under  one  head,  viz.  Whether  the 
kingly  power  should  be  absolute  or  not  ?  or,  what  was  con- 
sidered equivalent.  Whether  the  sovereignty  belonged  to  the 
king  or  to  the  people?  On  such  a  subject  as  this,  no  one, 
who  bore  the  least  affection  to  his  country,  could  remain 
wholly  without  interest :  we  must  not  therefore  be  astonished 
at  the  earnestness  with  which  the  dispute  was  carried  on. 

It  would  appear  almost  incredible  to  any  one  unversed  in 
the  writings  of  the  time,  to  what  an  extent  the  assessors  of 
the  kingly  power  proceeded,  and  on  what  grounds  they 
sought  to  rest  their  claim.     One  of  these  must  be  here  men- 
tioned, who,  it  is  true,  has  long  sunk  into  the  oblivion  which 
he  deserved,  but  who  must  not  be  passed  over  in  this  place, 
as  his  treatise  entitled  "  Patriarcha,  or  the  Natural  Power  of 
Kings,"  ^  served  as  a  whetstone  on  which  the  great  writers 
of  the  opposite  side  sharpened  and  improved  their  wits.     It 
was  to  the  extravagant,  and  in  some  degree  ludicrous  tenets 
of  Filmer  and  his  school,  that  the  cause  which  they  advo- 
cated chiefly  owed  its  fall.     For,  as  they  derived  the  kingly 
power  immediately  from  God,  they  were  forced  into  his- 
torical deductions  for  their  proof.    They  had  recourse,  there- 
fore, to  the  sacred  annals :  but  as,  unfortunately,  the  kingly 
power  does  not  there  date  beyond  a  particular  era,  they  fell 
back  upon  the  patriarchs,  and  asserted  boldly  that  Abraham 
and  Noah,  and  lastly,  that  Adam  himself  had  been  kings. 
In  order  to  make  this  good  they  endeavoured  to  show  that 
the  kingly  power  proceeded  from  the  paternal,  and  that,  ac- 
cordingly, kings,  being  the  fathers  of  their  people,  might 
exercise  as  unrestricted  an  authority  over  them  as  fath'ers 
over  their  children.     But  as  all  children,  by  the  very  fact  of 
their  birth,  become  subjected  to  the  government  of  their 
lather,  it  follows  of  course  that  no  man  can  be  born  free : 
and  again,  as  the  paternal  authority  has  been  transferred  to 
the  kings  of  the  earth,  all  men  come  by  their  birth  under 
this  absolute  power,  and  are  in  fact  born  as  a  sort  of  pro- 
perty and  appendage  to  it.     By  these  steps  Filmer  arrived 

don^^l682"''  ^^^^  ^^  ^"^  ^o/eVtoa?  Discourses  of  Robert  Filmer,  Bart.   Lon- 

Y  2 


S24 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


at  the  conclusion  that  the  most  absolute  despotism  is  fairly 
founded,  and  as  such  he  defended  it,  asserting  that  both  the 
persons  and  goods  of  the  subjects  are  nothing  more  than  the 
property  of  the  prince,  with  which  he  may  do  as  he  pleases ; 
that  on  this  account  every  opposition  of  the  subjects  is  open 
rebellion,  and  that  in  no  possible  case  can  a  king  be  de- 
posed from  his  authority. 

The  absurdity  of  these  propositions,  which  became  inevit- 
able as  soon  as  the  attempt  was  made  to  deduce  the  kingly 
power  historically  from  God,  would  probably  have  decided 
the  fate  of  the  theories  to  which  they  belonged,  even  without 
any  attack  from  without.  But  amongst  the  supporters  of 
absolute  power,  another  writer  appeared,  who  may  claim  his 
rank  with  the  first  thinkers  of  all  ages,  and  who  defended 
his  opinion  with  very  different  weapons  from  those  of 
Filmer — that  writer  was  Thomas  Hobbes.  Of  his  philo- 
sophical works  those  which  are  here  referred  to  are  his 
treatise  "  De  Give"  and  his  "  Leviathan."^ 

External  causes  may,  to  a  certain  degree,  have  induced 
Hobbes  to  come  forward  as  the  champion  of  absolute  power. 
He  not  only  belonged  to  the  royal  party,  but  was  tutor  to 
Gharles  H.  when  an  exile  in  France.  Nevertheless,  this 
influence  most  assuredly  did  not  extend  further  than  to  give 
his  mind  a  turn  of  thought  natural  to  the  events  of  the  time, 
and  to  his  own  peculiar  circumstances.  We  should  do  him 
great  injustice,  were  we  to  suspect  him  of  fawning  or  hy- 
pocrisy. His  character  is  much  more  that  of  a  logical  and 
consistent  reasoner  of  the  highest  order,  who  never  advanced 
a  proposition  which  he  for  a  moment  doubted  that  he  could 
establish  in  its  fullest  sense. 

Hobbes  is  remarkable  for  having  been  the  first  who  sought 
to  ground  the  theory  of  government  upon  natural  right,  and 
what  is  termed  "  the  state  of  nature."  This  notion  of  a 
"  state  of  nature,"  from  which  men  are  supposed  to  have  ad- 
vanced into  civil  society,  (however  differently  it  may  have 
been  entertained,)  has  formed  the  basis  of  all  subsequent 

^  The  **De  Cive"  forms  the  third  division  of  his  Elementa  Philos.  The 
"  Lemathan,''  sive  de  materia  formtt  et  potestate  civitatis,  is  only  a  further  de- 
velopment of  it. 

Hobbes  was  bom  1588,  and  died  1679.  His  Elementa  appeared  first  in 
1650,  and  the  Leviathan  1651,  in  the  time  of  Cromwell.  His  works  were  first 
published  in  1668  in  a  perfect  form. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


325 


speculations,  down  to  the  time  of  Rousseau ;  and  from  the 
indefiniteness  of  the  idea  which  it  introduced,  has  contributed 
not  a  little  to  perplex  the  theory  of  government. 

If  by  "the  state  of  nature"^  we  are  to  understand  the 
condition  of  men  who  are  not  formed  into  one  community, 
and  who  do  not  acknowledge  the  relations  of  civil  life,  it 
cannot  be  denied  that  nations  have  existed,  and  still  exist,  in 
this  condition.  But  in  order  to  determine  the  limits  be- 
tween the  state  of  nature  here  understood,  and  the  civil 
community  to  which  it  is  opposed,  we  must  have  a  clear 
idea  of  what  that  civil  community  implies. 

Now,  theorists  usually  define  the  latter  as  constituted  by 
the   possession  of  sovereignty,  whether  exercised    by  the 
whole  body,  or  by  a  few,  or  by  one  of  its  members.     This 
definition,  however,  is  of  little  practical  use  in  the  study  of 
history,  for  there  are  many  nations  to  which  it  would  apply, 
and  yet  of  whom  it  would  be  hard  to  say  that  they  form  a 
state,  and  live  in  civil  society.     All  the  great  pastoral  tribes 
are,  or  at  least  were,  in  possession  of  sovereignty  as  inde- 
pendent nations ;  and  this  sovereignty  was  exercised  by  the 
heads  of  particular  families  among  themselves;  and  yet  no 
one  would  argue  that  the  Calmucs,  or  the  Kirgisian  and 
Arabian  Bedouins,  form  what  is  properly  termed  a  state 
{Civitas),     This,  in  fact,  if  we  use  the  word  in  its  common 
historical  sense,  can  only  be  constituted  by  a  people,  whe- 
ther great  or  small,  which  possesses  and  permanently  in- 
habits one  particular  country  ;   or  in  other  words,  fixed 
places  of  abode  and  possessions  in  land  form  the  second 
necessary  qualification  of  every  state,  in  the  practical  sense 
of  the  word.     The  reason  of  this  is,  that  the  whole  institu- 
tion, or  assembly  of  institutions,  which  we  term  a  state,  at- 
tains its  development  and  application  only  by  property  in 
land.     The  first,  though  not  the  only  object  of  a  state,  is  the 
security  of  property  :  now,  although  moveables  are  just  as 
much  property  as  land,  yet  it  is  only  where  the  latter  has 
been  appropriated  that  the  right  of  property  attains  to  its 
full  importance :  and  not  only  this,  but  the  necessity  of  de- 

'  [For  a  further  examination  of  this  juggling  phrase  I  cannot  do  better  than 
refer  the  reader  to  Mr.  Lewis's  Remarks  on  the  Use  and  Abuse  of  some  Political 
Terms.  London,  1832.  Doctor  Ferguson's  Essay  on  the  History  of  Civil 
Society,  contains  many  beautiful  and  just  observations  on  the  true  meaning 
of  the  words.    Tr.] 


S26 


OF  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


fining  its  different  forms  by  laws  is  then  for  the  first  time 
perceived,  because  land  is,  from  its  nature,  the  only  perma- 
nent object  of  this  right.^ 

Although  a  state,  then,  may  be  conceived  in  theory  to 
exist  without  property  in  land,  yet  in  reality  the  one  can 
never  exist  without  the  other;  and  it  is  the  neglect  with 
which  this  fact  has  been  passed  over,  that  has  mainly  con- 
tributed to  give  to  political  systems  that  character  of  vi- 
sionary speculation,  which  must  in  all  theories  attend  the 
omission  of  such  points  as  are  necessary  to  their  practical 
application. 

A  sufficient  proof  of  this  is  furnished  by  the  notion  of  a 
"  state  of  nature,"  and  the  uses  to  which  it  has  been  put. 

For  if  this  imaginary  condition  be  opposed  to  civil  so- 
ciety, and  the  latter  can  only  exist  where  there  are  fixed 
abodes  and  landed  property,  we  must  conclude  that  all  na- 
tions unprovided  with  these  are  living  in  a  state  of  nature. 
From  this  it  follows,  that  "the  state  of  nature"  embraces 
under  it  all  those  conditions  which  may  be  imagined  to 
exist  before  the  institution  of  civil  society.  But  as  among 
these  there  are  marked  gradations,  gradations  which  cannot 
escape  the  merest  tyro  in  history,  the  only  conception  of*'  the 
state  of  nature"  at  which  we  arrive,  is  negative;  that  is, 
it  excludes  what  does  not  belong  to  it,  without  defining 
what  does  :  it  excludes  "  civil  society,"  but  it  does  not  de- 
fine the  positive  condition  which  the  term  "  state  of  nature" 
is  intended  to  denote. 

This  consideration,  however,  did  not  once  enter  the 
minds  of  our  theorists.  Each  contemplated  his  own  state 
of  nature  as  something  positive,  and  gave  such  a  descrip- 
tion of  it  as  best  pleased  himself  No  wonder,  then,  that 
there  should  be  a  little  variety  in  the  picture  ! — Hobbes 
conceived  the  first  design. 

^  [Thus,  in  early  times,  the  law  of  England  seems  to  have  taken  no  cog- 
nizance of  moveable  property,  but  to  have  confined  itself  to  "  things  that  are 
in  their  nature  more  permanent  and  immoveable,  as  lands  and  houses,  and 
the  profits  issuing  thereout."  And  although  commerce,  by  the  vast  increase 
of  moveable  property  which  it  has  caused,  has  naturally  induced  gi'eat 
changes  in  the  legal  contemplation  of  it,  yet  the  distinction  even  in  name  be- 
tween "real"  and  " personal"  property,  the  different  laws  of  descent  which 
they  follow,  and  the  gi-eater  solemnities  requisite  to  the  transfer  and  devise 
of  the  former,  compared  to  what  are  imposed  by  law  upon  the  latter,  show 
the  secondary  place  which  moveables  still  occupy.  See  Blackstone,  Com. 
B.  II.  c.  xxiv.     Tr.] 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


327 


According  to  him,  men  in  the  state  of  nature  live  in  con- 
tinued hostility  to  each  other.  When  in  this  condition,  they 
are  all  equal,  since  they  have  a  mutual  right  to  make  war 
upon,  and  even  to  kill  each  other.  They  all  have  the  will  to 
commit  injuries,  and  therefore  scruple  not  to  do  so — a  war 
thus  arises  of  all  against  all,  and  the  danger  becomes  univer- 
sal, as  the  weaker  must  ever  yield  to  the  stronger. — It  is 
natural,  meantime,  that  some  protection  should  be  sought 
against  these  dangers  ;  nay,  it  is  evident  that  neither  indi- 
viduals, nor  even  the  whole  race  of  man,  ^ould  suflSce  to 
keep  up  a  war  at  once  universal,  and  in  all  probability  eter- 
nal— men  perceived  this,  and  on  this  account  forsook  the 
state  of  nature,  and  formed  themselves  into  civil  society, 
which  is  therefore  the  offspring  of  fear. 

On  this  hypothesis,  the  instability  of  which  is  apparent 
from  what  we  have  before  said,  Hobbes  constructed  his  po- 
litical theory.  The  second  step  he  took  led  him  into  a  new 
hypothesis. — Out  of  this  state  of  nature  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  advance  without  some  specific  agreement: 
and  hence  arose  the  principle,  since  considered  so  import- 
ant, that  "  the  state  is  founded  upon  a  compact''  ^ 

This  compact  consisted  in  a  general  agreement  of  all^ 
to  submit  their  private  will  to  the  will  of  one— it  matters 
not  whether  this  be  one  individual,  or  one  assemblage  of 
persons — whose  will  should  thus  become  the  will  of  all. 
Whoever  procures  his  will  to  be  thus  respected,  possesses 
the  sovereign  power  and  majesty :  he  is  the  prince,  the 
others  are  his  subjects. — As  soon,  therefore,  as  the  sove- 

»  [The  idea  that  the  state  is  founded  upon  a  compact,  cannot  be  said  to 
have  been  originated  by  Hobbes,  although  he  was  perhaps  the  first  who  m 
modern  times  made  this  the  only  and  necessary  commencement  of  society. 
Hooker,  who  died  half  a  century  before  the  Leviathan  was  pubhshed,  (but 
whose  Eccl.  Polity,  although  constantly  referred  to  by  Locke,  appears  to  have 
escaped  the  notice  of  Prof.  Heeren,  )holds  very  express  language  to  that  effect. 
"  So  that  in  a  word,  all  pubUc  regiment,  of  what  kind  soever,  seemeth 
evidently  to  have  arisen  from  deliberate  advice,  consultation,  and  composition 
between  men,  judging  it  convenient  and  behoveful;  there  being  no  impossi- 
bility in  nature,  considered  by  itself,  but  that  men  might  have  lived  without 
any  pubUc  regiment."  Eccl.  Polit.  i.  He  also  speaks  of  "  times  wherein 
there  was  as  yet  no  manner  of  pubUc  regiment."  lb.  It  is  ^Iso  distinctly 
laid  down  in  the  Parliamentary  Declaration  of  1648 :  "  Thev  (the  parliament) 
suppose  it  will  not  be  denied  that  the  first  institution  of  the  office  of  a  king 
in  this  nation  was  by  agi-eement  of  the  people,  who  chose  one  to  that  office 
for  the  protection  and  good  of  them  who  chose  him,  and  for  their  better 
government,  according  to  such  laws  as  they  did  consent  unto."    Tr.] 

*  De  Give,  v.  6.    Submissio  voluntatum  omnium  unius  voUmtati. 


3^8 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


reignty  is  thus  intrusted  to  the  ruler,  all  private  will  is  at 
once  submitted  to  him. — He  is  in  no  wise  bound  by  the 
laws  which  the  others  may  prescribe— he  unites  in  himself 
the  supreme  executive  and  legislative  authority/  and  is 
therefore  in  every  way  absolute,  inviolable,  and  irresponsible. 
— Moreover,  the  power  which  has  been  granted  to  him  cannot 
ever  be  revoked,  for  as  the  nation  has  transferred  this,  it  no 
longer  constitutes  what,  morally  speaking,  may  be  termed 
one  person,  but  exists  only  as  an  aggregate  of  individuals. 

It  is  true  that  the  original  act  may  have  settled  the 
sovereignty  either  upon  one  man,  or  upon  a  certain  number, 
or  even  on  the  greater  part  of  the  people.  And  thus 
Hobbes  would  not  by  his  theory  exclude  either  an  aristo- 
cracy or  a  democracy,  provided  either  of  these  forms  were 
pure  and  absolute.  But  then  he  wished  also  to  prove  that 
a  monarchy  is  far  preferable  to  the  other  two,  and  thus  he 
became  its  advocate,  not  only  generally,  but  in  its  most  un- 
limited character  of  despotism.  Mixed  constitutions  he 
held  to  be  ipso  facto  absurd,  since  they  imply  the  division 
of  the  sovereignty,  which,  according  to  him,  is  a  contra- 
diction of  terms. 

These  are  the  principal  opinions  of  Hobbes,  who  may 
without  doubt  claim  to  be  considered  as  the  founder  of  po- 
litical speculation  in  modern  times— none  of  his  prede- 
cessors had  treated  the  subject  with  so  much  acuteness  and 
power  of  reasoning.  He  rose  above  common  experience, 
and  havmg  once  established  his  theory  of  a  state,  he  guarded 
it  well  about.  His  system  rested  upon  these  three  positions  : 
1st,  The  supreme  power  is  indivisible  :  2nd,  The  supreme 
power  may  be  transferred  :  3rd,  When  transferred  its  unity 
must  be  maintained. 

The  converse  of  the  second  of  these  (viz.)  that  the 
supreme  power  is  intransferable,  was  at  a  later  period 
advanced  by  Rousseau,  who  was  thus  unavoidably  led  to 
consider  a  democracy  as  the  only  just  form  of  government. 
Hobbes,  on  the  other  hand,  attained  by  his  view  to  the 
most  unlimited  monarchy  and  aristocracy,  without,  as  we 
have  said,  wholly  excluding  democracy.    The  only  condi- 

»  Imperium  absolutum,  2)^  Cive,  vi.  13.  Hobbes  has  no  general  term  for 
the  executive  power,  he  characterizes  it  according  to  particular  acts  of  the 
government. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


329 


tion  on  which  he  insisted,  was  that  the  form,  whatever  that 
might  be,  should  be  simple  and  unrestricted. 

The  high  character  which  belongs  to  Hobbes  among  the 
political  writers  of  his  day,  might  lead  us  to  expect  that  he 
should  have  acquired  great  practical  influence.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  the  case ;  and  it  may  partly  be  accounted  for 
by  the  fact,  that  the  constitution  of  his  own  country  was 
formed  upon  wholly  different  principles  from  those  which 
he  advocated.  But  even  among  the  supporters  of  absolute 
kingly  power,  he  was  not  usually  appealed  to  as  their  best 
defence.  Filmer,  whom  we  have  before  spoken  of,  although 
immeasurably  inferior  to  Hobbes,  yet  attained  to  much 
greater  authority ;  in  fact,  he  was  singled  out  by  the  best 
champions  of  the  opposite  party  as  the  worthier  enemy  of 
the  two.  The  reason  of  this  appears  to  be,  that  Filmer  s 
work  was  in  much  better  accordance  with  the  prevailing 
spirit  of  the  time  than  that  of  Hobbes.  The  latter  so  far 
excelled  his  age  in  method  and  power  of  abstract  reasoning, 
as  to  stand  alone  and  unappreciated.  Again,  Filmer  had 
interwoven  religion  with  his  politics,  and  quoted  the  Bible 
for  examples  and  authority  ;  and  as  this  was  then  the  pre- 
valent tone,  we  can  understand  how  his  solemn  trifling 
came  to  attract  more  attention  than  the  philosophical  argu- 
ments of  Hobbes. 

It  would  be  superfluous  to  dwell  upon  other  and  less 
known  writers,  who  came  forward  in  support  of  absolute 
power,  as  the  theory  of  politics  was  very  little  advanced  by 
them ;  and  it  is  far  from  my  intention  to  give  a  litemry  his- 
tory of  the  science.  I  prefer  passing  at  once  to  the  advo- 
cates of  free  constitutions  who  appeared  at  this  time  in 
England ;  and  among  these  more  especially  to  Algernon 
Sidney,  and  John  Locke.  Both  had  for  their  immediate 
object  a  reply  to  Filmer,  but  neither  was  content  with  his 
discomfiture.  Algernon  Sidney^  was  one  of  those  charac- 
ters which  the  disturbances  of  a  revolution  are  so  apt  to 
produce.  From  his  earliest  youth  he  was  an  enthusiastic 
adorer  of  republican  freedom  ;  and  the  circumstances  amidst 
which  he  lived,  served  amply  to  encourage  a  spirit  which 

*  He  was  born  1622,  and  beheaded  1683,  on  a  charge  of  high  treason, 
which  could  not  be  substantiated.  Under  William  III.  this  judgment  was 
reversed,  and  his  innocence  solemnly  acknowledged. 


330 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


persecution  only  confirmed.  For  many  years  he  wandered 
in  exile,  and  when  at  length  he  returned  to  his  native 
country,  it  was  to  be  condemned  without  cause,  and  die 
upon  the  scaffold.     His  own  often  rehearsed  motto, 

Manus  haec  inimica  tyrannis 

Ense  petit  placidam  sub  libertate  quietem  ; 

gives  a  truer  history  of  his  opinions  and  character  than  any 
longer  story  could  tell. 

Sidney  wrote  his  famous  "Discourses  on  Government" 
in  answer  to  Filmer,  and  this  polemical  design  teaches  us  at 
once  that  we  are  not  to  expect  from  them  a  regular  system 
of  politics.  Moreover,  he  had  no  natural  turn  for  specula- 
tive pursuits ;  and  his  philosophy  of  government  consisted 
in  a  few  favourite  maxims,  which  he  sought  to  prove  altern- 
ately by  abstract  reasoning  and  reference  to  history.  The 
first  position  of  Filmer  s  which  he  attacked,  was  that  in 
which  he  deduced  the  kingly  power  from  God.  He  argued 
that  so  far  from  this,  God  had  committed  the  choice  of  their 
government  entirely  to  mankind.  It  is,  therefore,  in  strict 
accordance  with  nature,  that  nations  should  rule  themselves, 
or  at  least  choose  their  own  rulers. 

All  "  magistratical  power"  then,  if  rightly  derived,  must 
be  derived  from  the  people;  and  the  government  must  be 
instituted  with  a  view  to  the  advantage  of  the  governed,  and 
not  of  the  governors.  The  amount  of  power  which  is  in- 
trusted to  the  magistracy,  depends  upon  the  people  who 
make  that  trust :  and  as  every  nation  has  a  right  to  establish 
its  own  form  of  government,  so  every  nation  has  a  right  to 
alter  or  do  it  away  at  will.  It  is  clear  that  these  principles 
would  admit  of  a  monarchy  as  well  as  of  a  constitution  ;  but 
although  their  author  does  not  wholly  reject  the  monarchical 
form,  he  takes  no  trouble  to  conceal  his  preference  of  re- 
publicanism, the  advantages  of  which  he  endeavours,  often 
feebly  enough,  to  prove.  It  is  evident  from  this  short  ab- 
stract, that  the  theory  of  government  gained  very  little  at 
the  hands  of  Sidney.  He  ranks,  however,  among  the  most 
spirited  defenders  of  liberty,  and  his  unjust  fate  has  rendered 
his  memory  sacred.  With  regard  to  his  work,  which  could 
only  be  published  after  his  death,  in  the  reign  of  William  HI., 
we  may  fairly  say  that  his  name  has  done  more  for  it  than 
it  has  done  for  his  name ;  it  never  has  been  forgotten,  but 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


331 


it  has  never  taken  a  place  among  the  classics  of  his  country. 
This,  indeed,  the  form  of  it  would  not  permit,  for  while  its 
polemical  interest  necessarily  expired  with  the  short-lived 
reputation  of  Filmer,  there  was  nothing  in  the  vagueness 
and  unphilosophical  arrangement  of  its  parts  which  could 
supply  the  deficiency. 

If  Algernon  Sidney  then  did  contribute,  and  assuredly  he 
did,  to  awaken  a  spirit  of  freedom  among  his  countrymen, 
it  was  rather  by  his  life  and  death  than  by  any  thing  that 
ever  came  from  his  pen. 

John  Locke,^  of  whom  we  have  now  to  speak,  requires  a 
very  different  notice.  He  is  to  be  reckoned  among  those 
who  have  acquired,  and  still  continue  to  exercise,  a  great 
national  influence ;  for  whatever  opinion  we  may  entertain 
of  his  powers  of  thought,  it  is  undeniable  that  to  him  Eng- 
land chiefly  owes  the  direction  of  its  philosophical  pursuits. 

Those  of  his  writings  with  which  we  have  here  to  do,  are 
his  two  treatises  of  government.^  The  first  of  these,  as  its 
title  denotes,  was  in  answer  to  Filmer ;  but  the  second  goes 
further,  and  being  an  attempt  to  establish  the  general  theory 
of  government,  bears  more  directly  upon  our  subject. 

In  it  Locke  proceeds,  as  Hobbes  had  done,  from  "the 
state  of  nature ;"  but  the  vagueness  which  we  before  attri- 
buted to  the  idea  of  such  a  state,  is  at  once  shown  by  the 
very  different  picture  which  he  gives  of  it  from  that  sketched 
by  Hobbes.  The  latter  had  asserted  that,  in  "  the  state  of 
nature"  every  man  was  in  continual  warfare  with  his  neigh- 
bour. Locke,  on  the  other  hand,  imposes  upon  men  in  this 
state  a  natural  law,  by  which  they  are  bound  alike  to  pro- 
vide for  their  own  safety,  and  to  abstain  from  injuring  that 
of  others.  By  the  same  law,  persons  who  may  have  suffered 
injury  are  permitted  to  exert  themselves  in  self-defence,  and 
to  retaliate  so  far  as  at  once  to  procure  reparation  to  them- 
selves, and  to  prevent  the  aggressors  from  any  renewal  of 
their  attacks.  In  spite,  therefore,  of  his  own  doctrine,  with 
which  he  combats  Filmer  and  Hobbes,  that  all  men  in  the 

*  He  was  born  1632,  spent  a  portion  of  his  life  abroad,  especially  in  France, 
and  died  1704. 

*  The  two  treatises  of  government.  In  the  former,  the  false  principles  and 
foundation  of  Sir  Robert  Filmer,  Bart,  and  his  followers,  are  detected  and 
overthrown.  The  latter  is  an  essay  concerning  the  true  original  extent  and 
end  of  civil  government. 


SS2 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


333 


state  of  nature  are  free  and  equal,  he  allots  to  every  one  a 
degree  of  power  over  his  neighbour  sufficient  to  punish  the 
transgressors  of  the  natural  law,  and  thus  to  maintain  its  au- 
thority. 

This  view  of  the  state  of  nature  reduces  it  to  a  condition 
in  which  men  are  under  no  government  but  that  of  reason. 
Such  a  condition  may  certainly  be  imagined,  but  until  men 
learn  to  shake  off  the  passions,  which  at  present  hold  a  di- 
vided sway  with  reason,  and  become  wholly  devoted  to  the 
latter,  it  can  never  be  realized.  While  if  it  were,  we  may 
ask  what  necessity  there  would  then  be  for  any  government 
at  all  ?  That  it  would  be  necessary,  however,  Locke  declares, 
and  that  because  where  every  man  is  judge  in  his  own  cause, 
it  is  impossible  that  he  should  act  without  being  prejudiced 
by  his  own  interest. 

The  most  important  advantage  which  resulted  from  the 
inquiries  of  Locke,  was  the  assertion  of  universal  freedom 
and  equality  as  the  birthright  of  mankind,  in  opposition  to 
the  tenets  of  Filmer  and  his  followers  with  respect  to  the 
dependence,  and  even  slavery,  which  they  held  to  emanate 
from  the  paternal  authority.  Locke  therefore  was  the  first 
who  advanced  the  doctrine  of  the  natural  rights  of  man,  in 
as  far  as  these  are  maintained  by  personal  freedom,  and  the 
security  of  property,  which  he  was  at  much  more  pains  to 
define  and  establish  than  any  of  his  predecessors  had  been. 

As  Locke  made  the  state  of  civil  society  to  proceed  from 
that  of  nature,  by  the  act  of  surrender,  according  to  which 
every  man  resigned  his  individual  right  of  punishing  the 
violators  of  the  natural  law  into  the  hands  of  a  public  and 
acknowledged  officer ;  it  follows,  of  course,  that  the  consti- 
tuents of  a  state  should  be  all  free  men,  and  that  personal 
freedom  should  be  an  essential  condition  of  the  union. 
Locke,  however,  was  not  content  with  this,  for  the  whole 
tenor  of  his  work  is  directed  to  show  that  the  British  con- 
stitution is  strictly  in  conformity  with  the  general  principles 
of  government,  and  therefore  a  just  and  reasonable  form. 
He  thus  introduces,  beyond  the  personal  freedom  on  which 
he  openly  insists,  the  condition  of  political  freedom,  or  par- 
ticipation in  the  legislature.  The  origin  of  a  state  presup- 
poses the  voluntary  agreement  of  all  those  who  are  to  be- 
come members  of  it;  these,  by  uniting  themselves,  form  a 


political  body ;  and  this  body  must  be  directed  by  the  will 
of  the  majority,  or  else  remain  inefficient.  As  each  indi- 
vidual, therefore,  must  submit  his  own  opinion  to  that  of 
the  majority,  which  thus  becomes  the  legislative  power,  this 
power  is  supreme,  whether  the  constitution  be  of  one  kind 
or  another,  whether  the  power  be  transferred  into  the  hands 
of  many  or  of  a  few.  It  must,  however,  be  distinguished 
from  the  executive,  which  is  subordinate  to  the  other,  and 
has  for  its  object  the  observance  and  fulfilment  of  the  laws. 

In  pursuing  this  scheme  Locke  was  led  to  inquire  more 
particularly  into  the  distmction  between  the  legislative  and 
executive  powers,  and  the  principles  which  he  thus  estab- 
lished form  another  and  essential  cause  of  gratitude  to  him 
as  a  political  theorist.  No  writer  before  him  had  so  dis- 
tinctly separated  these  elements  of  a  constitution  from  each 
other,  or  ascertained  so  closely  both  their  several  characters 
and  mutual  relation.  But  whilst  he  was  busied  in  claiming 
a  superiority  for  the  legislative  over  the  executive,  and  in 
securing  the  exercise  of  it  either  wholly,  or  in  part  at  least, 
to  the  people  or  their  representatives,  he  was  thus  gradually 
preparing  his  way  to  the  maxim,  that  7io  constitution  is  to 
be  considered  a  right  one  in  which  the  legislative  and  the 
executive  powers  are  not  lodged  in  different  hands.  In  an 
unlimited  monarchy,  therefore,  where  the  two  powers  are 
united  in  the  ruler  without  control,  the  proper  relations  can- 
not be  established,  and  the  prince  is  to  be  regarded  as  occu- 
pying the  same  position  towards  his  subjects  as  that  which 
every  man  held  towards  his  neighbour  in  the  state  of  nature. 

This  development  of  the  doctrine  of  a  distinction  of 
powers  in  the  state,  was  absolutely  necessary  to  complete 
the  theory  of  government,  and  Locke  cannot  be  denied  great 
merit  for  accomplishing  it,  as  well  as  for  pointing  out  the 
advantages  of  a  free  constitution.  He  thus  prepared  the 
ground  which  subsequent  writers,  however  little  they  other- 
wise agreed  with  him  in  principle,  yet  made  use  of  to  estab- 
lish their  own.  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  he  did  not  fore- 
see the  consequences  to  which  his  doctrines  might  lead  ;  for 
although  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  legislative  and  exe- 
cutive powers  ought  to  be  considered  as  separate  in  theory, 
yet  how  far  they  ought  to  be  separated  in  practice,  is  a 
wholly  different  question. 


^# 


334 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


An  entire  separation  of  the  two  in  practical  politics  can 
never  be  accomplished — nor  indeed  did  Locke  ever  intend 
it — he  assigned  the  prince  a  share  in  the  legislative,  and  thus 
differed  from  Hobbes  by  admitting  a  mixed  constitution, 
while  the  latter  rejected  all  division  of  the  sovereignty,  and 
admitted  only  the  pure  forms.  Notwithstanding  this,  how- 
ever, the  theoretical  distinction  of  these  elements  led  to  the 
maxim  that  they  ought  to  be  separated  as  much  as  possible 
in  practice  ;  and  thus  the  way  was  opened  to  most  serious 
errors.  Subsequent  experience  has  unfortunately  shown 
that  anxiety  on  this  point  is  any  thing  but  unfounded,  and 
if  we  examine  the  evils  which  have  resulted  from  it,  we 
shall  be  obliged  to  confess,  that  no  theory  ever  produced  so 
much  mischief  by  being  misunderstood  as  this. 

As  far  as  England  was  concerned,  however,  the  principles 
of  Locke  needed  no  qualification,  and  we  can  easily  under- 
stand how  they  should  become  the  text  book  of  the  nation. 
That  separation  of  the  executive  and  legislative  powers 
which  he  required,  was  here  in  force,  for  although  the  king 
had  a  share  of  the  latter,  it  was  yet  essentially  in  the  hands 
of  the  parliament.  Those  maxims  which  were  considered 
by  the  people  as  most  sacred  and  most  important,  viz.  that 
no  taxes  should  be  imposed  except  w^ith  the  consent  of  their 
representatives,  that  all  men's  rights  were  equal  in  the  eye 
of  the  law,  and  the  like,  were  definitely  expressed  by  Locke ; 
and  thus  his  theory  corresponded  in  all  its  essential  points 
with  what  actually  existed.  This  accordance  alone  would 
have  secured  Locke  a  very  great  authority ;  but  besides  this, 
he  was  acknowledged  as  the  first  philosopher,  and  one  of 
the  most  classical  writers  which  the  nation  possessed ;  and 
his  work  thus  became  current,  if  not  among  the  mass  of  the 
people,  at  least  among  the  well-informed  and  educated  part 
of  it.  There  were  other  circumstances  also  which  tended 
to  spread  his  influence,  and  especially  the  fact  that  several 
of  the  most  eminent  practical  statesman  of  Great  Britain, 
we  need  only  mention  Chatham  as  one — recognised  his 
principles  upon  every  occasion  in  parliament ;  and  thus 
added  to  his  character  for  abstract  philosophy  that  of  the 
surest  practical  discernment. 

The  general  consent  of  a  great  and  intelligent  nation^ 
which  has  produced  so  many  of  the  most  profound  philo- 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


335 


sophers  and  ablest  statesmen,  is  always  entitled  to  our  at- 
tention ;  nor  have  w^e  the  remotest  wish  to  take  from  the 
undoubted  merits  of  Locke :  but  we  may  observe,  that  the 
almost  blind  respect  which  was  paid  to  him,  has  been  one 
of  the  causes  of  that  abatement  in  the  study  of  political 
science,  which  to  a  certain  degree  still  continues. — To  argue 
against  Locke  has  been  considered  as  an  infallible  proof  of 
disaffection  to  the  constitution. 

Nevertheless,  England  has  since  his  time  had  many  po- 
litical writers,  and  those  of  the  first  order,  but  their  pursuits 
have  received  a  different  direction,  and  have  been  changed 
from  inquiries  as  to  the  rights  and  forms  of  government, 
into  questions  of  political  economy. — Men's  opinions  on 
constitutional  points,  as  far  as  these  are  practically  con- 
cerned, have  become  settled,  partly  by  the  constitution  under 
which  they  live,  and  partly  by  the  writings  of  Locke.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  more  evident  relations  of  government 
and  the  new  wants  which  have  been  continually  arising,  were 
calculated  to  draw  general  attention  to  political  economy. 
And  as  under  the  Stuarts  the  theory  of  government  owed 
its  rise  to  the  revolutionary  times  immediately  preceding,  so 
the  circumstances  of  later  days  naturally  led  to  the  theories 
of  political  economy.  It  does  not  belong  to  our  plan  to 
mention  the  great  writers  who  have  appeared  in  this  depart- 
ment. From  them  Europe  has  gained  its  whole  knowledge 
of  the  science,  and  their  influence,  far  from  diminishing, 
must  continue  to  increase. 

However  highly  we  may  estimate  the  services  which 
Locke  rendered  to  the  science  of  civil  government,  it  was 
unavoidable  that  a  theory  which  had  reference  only  to  one 
particular  state,  should  be  partial  and  incomplete.  This 
will  be  at  once  evident  if  we  apply  his  principles  to  other 
countries,  which  we  are,  to  a  certain  degree,  accustomed  to 
consider  among  the  best  governed  of  Europe. 

According  to  him,  none  of  those  states  in  which  the 
power  of  the  prince  is  unlimited,  i.  e.  in  which  the  legislative 
and  executive  powers  are  united  in  his  person — admit  of 
any  approach  to  civil  society,  properly  so  called — in  fact, 
they  present  nothing  but  slavery.  These  expressions  must 
of  course  be  taken  with  some  degree  of  latitude,  but  the 
theory  which  seeks  to  confine  the  idea  of  a  state  within  such 
narrow  limits,  cannot  be  reconciled  with  actual  history. 


336 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


If  states,  such  as  Denmark  and  Prussia,  are  not  even  to 
deserve  the  name  of  states,  if  their  constitutions  are  not  for 
a  moment  to  be  considered  rightful  constitutions,  we  must 
be  allowed  to  suspect,  that  the  fault  lies  rather  in  the  the- 
orists than  in  the  states  themselves.  And  so  in  truth  it 
does;  Locke,  like  all  his  predecessors,  and  his  successors 
down  to  Kant,  adopted  for  his  foundation  the  division  into 
monarchy,  aristocracy,  and  democracy.  But  as  long  as  this 
division  prevails,  no  theory  which  is  founded  upon  it  can 
be  secure.  And  one  of  the  chief  reasons  of  this  is,  that  the 
important  distinction  between  unlimited  monarchy,  as  far  as 
this  results  from  the  union  of  the  two  powers,  or,  as  it  is  bet- 
ter termed,  autocracy,  and  despotism,  cannot  be  drawn. 
Hence  these  two  forms,  although  essentially  different,  are 
continually  mistaken  for  each  other.^ 

While  outward  circumstances  were  thus  advancing  the 
theory  of  politics  in  England,  Geneva  presented  a  similar, 
and  yet  a  very  different  appearance.  This  small  state  de- 
serves to  be  reckoned  among  the  most  remarkable  in  Europe, 
and  from  its  immense  influence  upon  the  practice  of  politics 
attracts  the  attention  of  the  historian  more  than  many  other 
states  which  far  exceed  it  in  size.  From  a  curious  assem- 
blage of  circumstances,  speculation  on  the  science  of  go- 
vernment attained  to  a  degree  of  vigour  here,  which  was  not 
equalled  in  any  other  part  of  Europe,  and  which  at  once 
produced  its  consequences — some  cheering  and  beneficial ; 
others,  alas  !  dangerous  and  destructive. 

The  names  of  Calvin,  and  Servetus,  of  Voltaire,  of  Rous- 
seau, and  Necker,  bring  a  throng  of  recollections  to  the 
mind  ;  but  in  order  to  obtain  a  full  view  of  the  subject  with 
which  they  are  connected,  we  must  bestow  a  passing  glance 
upon  the  position  and  history  of  Geneva  itself. 

The  geographical  situation  of  this  town  undoubtedly  con- 
tributed to  produce  a  collision  of  ideas,  such  as  could  not 
easily  take  place  elsewhere.  Placed  upon  the  borders  of 
France,  Italy,  and  Switzerland,  it  enjoyed  a  degree  of  intel- 
lectual prosperity  to  which  each  of  the  neighbouring  states 
contributed  its  share.  Still,  however,  the  peculiar  character 
of  Geneva  was  determined  by  the  development  of  its  inter- 

'  In  order  to  avoid  repetition  I  must  refer  my  reader  to  what  I  have  said 
on  this  subject,  in  my  Historical  Researches,  African  Nations^  vol.  ii.  App. 
IV.  p.  413,  of  the  English  translation. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


337 


nal  relations.     To  this  the  Reformation  mainly  contributed 

for  on  their  conversion  to  its  principles,  the  Genevese 

(1533)  expelled  the  bishops,  who  had  till  then  been,  in  a 
certain  degree,  their  rulers ;  although,  as  in  other  places,  a 
municipal  constitution  had  gradually  been  formed  to  restrain 
them.  From  that  time  Geneva  maintained  its  independence, 
notwithstanding  the  attempts  of  the  princes  of  Savoy :  and 
the  goods  of  the  clergy,  which  had  been  confiscated,  were 
applied  to  the  foundation  of  that  university,  which  has  since 
reckoned  so  many  distinguished  men  among  its  members. 
In  the  mean  time,  it  was  reserved  for  John  Calvin,  who 
established  himself  here  as  a  Reformer,  to  enable  Geneva,  by 
his  single  efforts,  to  turn  the  Reformation  to  such  account, 
as  regarded  its  political  importance,  as  could  never  have 
been  hoped  for  without  his  assistance. 

This  extraordinary  personage,  a  Frenchman  by  birth,  and 
as  much  endowed  with  vigour  and  activity  as  he  was  fur- 
nished with  learning,  was  chosen  to  fill  the  professor's  chair ; 
and  not  only  acquired  great  political  importance  by  the  in- 
fluence which  the  rigid  church  discipline,  estabUshed  by 
him  at  the  Reformation,  secured  to  himself  and  to  the 
clergy,  but  became,  as  a  geiieral  reformer,  the  head  of  that 
party  which  took  its  name  from  him. 

Of  this  party  Geneva  naturally  became  the  chief  resort, 
and  from  it  they  spread  themselves  in  all  directions,  and 
especially  towards  France,  where,  under  the  name  of  Hugo- 
nots,  they  caused  disturbances  from  which  the  most  san- 
guinary civil  wars  took  their  rise.  But,  besides  the  presence 
of  Calvin,  there  was  another  reason  for  the  religious  im- 
portance of  Geneva,  and  one  of  a  more  enduring  character. 

The  new  doctrines  were  no  where  else  taught  in  the 
French  tongue;  and  thus  Geneva  necessarily  became  the 
school  of  the  French  reformed  clergy,  and,  by  extending  its 
sphere,  involved  itself  more  deeply  in  general  politics. 

To  these  circumstances  Geneva  was  considerably  indebted 
for  the  features  which  so  peculiarly  distinguished  it — but 
not  to  these  alone. — The  manner  in  which  its  internal  re- 
lations were  established  was  of  no  less  influence.  In  the 
same  year  as  that  in  which  Calvin  settled  at  Geneva,  (1536,) 
a  change  was  wrought  in  the  constitution  of  this  state  upon 
which  its  future  character  depended.     The  municipal  con- 


z 


338 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


stitution,  as  far  as  it  had  been  formed  under  the  bishops,  was 
purely  democratical.  The  citizens'  assembly,  (Conseil  ge- 
neral,) which  included  every  householder  who  enjoyed  the 
rightsof  citizenship,  deliberated  upon  all  important  matters, 
and  elected  annually,  from  its  own  members,  four  chief  of- 
ficers, or  syndics,  who  were  obliged  to  give  an  account  of 
their  proceedings  to  the  assembly.  To  those  syndics  it  had, 
for  a  considerable  time,  become  customary  to  join  assessors, 
whose  number  had  gradually  been  increased  to  twenty-five, 
and  the  body  thus  formed  was  called  the  smaller  council 
(Petit  conseil).  Causes  which  will  not  admit  of  being  his- 
torically proved  had  induced  the  addition  of  other  assessors 
to  the  smaller  council.  The  number  of  these  was  (in  1526) 
fixed  at  two  hundred,  but  afterwards  amounted  to  two 
hundred  and  fifty;  and  thus  the  great  council  (Grand ^ 
conseil)  was  formed,  in  which  the  smaller  council  had  seats 
and  voices,  and  of  which  it  formed  the  select  committee. 

It  was  naturally  to  be  expected,  that  when  the  bishops 
were  expelled,  and  the  state  thus  became  wholly  free,  these 
institutions  should  not  only  be  preserved,  but  should  acquire 
a  much  greater  importance  than  before.  Up  to  that  time, 
however,  the  members  of  both  councils,  as  well  as  the 
syndics,  were  annually  chosen  by  the  citizens'  assembly,  and 
could,  therefore,  be  only  considered  as  delegates  of  the  latter. 

But  in  the  year  1536,  at  a  moment  when  general  atten- 
tion was  fully  occupied  by  matters  of  religion,  it  was  carried, 
that  the  two  councils,  the  great  and  the  small,  should  re- 
elect themselves  annually,  subject,  however,  to  an  inquiry 
into  the  conduct  of  their  members. 

Jt  was  very  difficult  at  that  time  for  the  citizens  to  per- 
ceive the  consequences  of  such  changes  :  they  could  not,  how- 
ever, but  show  themselves.  In  the  midst  of  a  democracy 
the  seeds  of  an  aristocracy  had  been  sown,  the  growth  and 
prosperity  of  which  there  was  scarce  any  thing  left  to  control. 

The  two  councils  had  a  common  interest ;  they  naturally 
became  permanent  bodies — naturally  I  say,  for  what  could 
be  more  natural  than  that  the  annual  election  should,  when 
it  was  thus  left  to  themselves,  become  an  empty  form  ?  A 
slight  acquaintance  with  the  course  of  affairs  in  small  states 

'  We  must  not  confound  the  great  council  (Grand  conseil)  with  the  Conseil 
general,  or  citizens'  assembly. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


339 


will  tell  us,  moreover,  that  this  aristocracy  could  not  avoid 
becoming  an  aristocracy  of  particular  families.  Meanwhile, 
however,  it  lasted  for  a  considerable  time  without  becoming 
a  cause  of  dissension  ;  and  for  that  reason  was  able  to  estab- 
lish itself  the  more  firmly.  The  continued  attempts  of  the 
dukes  of  Savoy  to  subdue  Geneva  also  contributed  to  divert 
the  attention  of  the  citizens,  and  at  the  same  time  to  create  a 
spirit  of  unity,  which  the  last  ineffectual  effort  in  1602,  the 
well-known  escalade,  served  greatly  to  confirm. 

While  there  was  yet  no  great  disparity  of  possessions, 
while  strangers  were  freely  admitted  to  the  full  rights  of 
citizenship,  and  while  those  connexions  were  kept  up  be- 
tween the  upper  and  lower  classes  which  were  established 
by  sponsorship,  (a  tie  which  may  not  unaptly  be  compared 
to  the  patronage  of  the  Romans,)  disturbances  were  not 
much  to  be  feared.  But  all  this  became  changed,  when  at 
the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  (1685,)  a  host  of  Hu- 
gonots  fled  from  France  to  Geneva.  From  that  time  the 
rights  of  citizenship  began  to  be  more  sparingly  imparted, 
and  the  Genevese  formed  themselves  into  distinct  classes 
by  the  separation,  among  the  citizens  themselves,  of  the 
"  Citoyensl'  or  elder  citizens,  (whose  family  had  possessed 
that  right  for  four  generations,)  from  the  new  citizens,  or 
''Bourgeois,''  and  among  the  mere  inhabitants,  of  the 
"  Habitans''  from  the  after  settlers  or  "  Natifs :''  and  with 
this  distinction  of  classes  arose  also  a  distinction  of  rights. 
The  new  trades  which  the  refugees  imported  with  them, 
produced  a  great  increase  of  wealth ;  and  men's  minds  be- 
came more  at  leisure  for  the  consideration  of  political 
questions.  In  1707  the  contest  between  the  aristocracy 
and  the  democracy  fairly  commenced,  and  was  from  time 
to  time  renewed  in  a  manner  which  furnishes  the  most  in- 
structive commentary  on  the  struggles  of  the  patricians  and 
plebeians  in  Rome,  with  which  it  agreed  as  well  in  other 
points,  as  in  the  fate  of  its  martyrs— its  Fatio,  Micheli,  and 
others.  The  historical  details  of  these  events  do  not  belong 
to  our  plan,  but  it  is  well  worthy  of  attention  that  they  fre- 
quently arose  upon  questions  closely  connected  with  the 
theory  of  politics,  which  was  then  assuming  a  new  form. 

In  none  of  the  other  and  larger  states  of  Europe  were 
those  difficult  points,    regarding   the   sovereignty  of  the 

z  2 


340 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


341 


people,  the  limits  between  the  legislative  and  the  executive, 
and  SO  forth,  discussed  so  practically  as  in  Geneva. — It  pre- 
sented the  curious  spectacle  of  a  small,  almost  the  smallest 
free  state  of  Europe,  preserving  in  the  midst  of  the  great 
monarchies  by  which  it  was  surrounded,  so  striking  a  re- 
semblance to  the  republics  of  antiquity,  as  to  furnish  a 
commentary  on  them,  such  as  the  whole  continent  besides 
could  not  supply.  But  there  is  another  point  on  account 
of  which  it  is  still  more  remarkable,  viz.  the  interference  of 
several  of  the  greater  states,  especially  of  France,  with  its 
internal  affairs,  and  the  manner  in  which  that  interference 
was  conducted.  Almost  all  the  ministers  who  had  charge 
of  the  foreign  affairs  of  France — Fleury  and  Choiseul  under 
Lewis  XV. — Vergennes  and  Necker  under  Lewis  XVL — 
took  a  very  great  and  active  interest  in  the  politics  of 
Geneva;  but  notwithstanding  the  immense  disparity  of 
strength,  their  interference  was  always  cautious  and  respect- 
ful, to  a  degree  which  could  have  been  necessary  only 
towards  a  much  more  important  state.  And  even  when,  in 
extreme  cases,  it  became  unavoidable  for  the  support  of  one 
or  other  of  the  parties,  that  troops  should  be  advanced  upon 
Geneva,  still  its  independence  was  never  violated.  Indeed 
the  eighteenth  century  may  claim  as  a  phenomenon  pecu- 
liarly its  own,  the  instance  of  an  army  furnished  by  three 
powers,  France,  Sardinia,  and  Switzerland,  and  assembled 
before  the  gates  of  a  town,  not  for  the  purposes  of  conquest, 
but  solely  with  a  view  of  restoring  by  its  presence  the  tran- 
quillity of  the  town  itself.  No  political  system  which  has 
not  for  its  foundation  a  sacred  respect  for  property  and  a  de- 
sire to  maintain  the  balance  of  power  can  present  such  scenes  ! 
Whilst  these  repeated  disturbances,  and  the  cautious  in- 
terference of  the  great  powers  which  they  produced,  gave 
to  Geneva  an  importance  in  the  eyes  of  Europe  which  no 
other  state  of  the  same  rank  could  boast,  they  were  also  the 
cause  of  its  becoming  the  central  point  of  speculations  on 
the  theory  of  government.  It  affords  a  striking  example  of 
the  power  which  the  freedom  of  a  republican  constitution 
possesses  to  awaken  a  spirit  of  general  inquiry,  while  it  at 
the  same  time  shows  that  the  spirit  thus  roused  will  natu- 
rally attach  itself  to  the  subject  of  politics,  should  these  lie 
more  immediately  within  its  reach. 


But  besides  its  form  of  government,  Geneva  had  another 
advantage  in  the  identity  of  its  language  with  that  of  France. 
By  this  means  it  derived  full  benefit  from  every  step  which 
the  latter  made :  all  the  new  ideas  which  arose  in  France 
obtained  immediate  circulation  there.  And  thus,  before  we 
come  to  "  the  citizen  of  Geneva,"  whose  influence  on  the 
theory  of  politics  was  so  extensive,  we  must  first  cast  a 
glance  upon  the  progress  which  speculations  of  this  nature 
had  made  in  France. 

The  age  of  Lewis  XIV.  had  not  been  by  any  means  fa- 
vourable to  them,  but  under  his  successors  they  had  fairer 
scope.  The  spirit  of  the  nation  received  a  sudden  impulse 
from  the  hand  of  one,  who  in  respect  of  the  attention  which 
he  excited,  became  to  the  French  what  Locke  was  to  the 
English.  He  and  Locke,  however,  held  such  different  views 
with  regard  to  the  existing  constitutions  of  their  own  coun- 
tries that  this  is  the  only  point  on  which  a  comparison  will 
hold. 

Before  Montesquieu,  the  French  nation  possessed  no 
writer  on  political  subjects  whom  they  esteemed  sufficiently 
to  consider  an  authority ;  but  no  sooner  had  the  "  Esprit 
des  Loix"*  appeared,  than  it  obtained  so  great  an  influence 
as  to  render  all  attacks  upon  it  ineffectual,  except  in  further- 
ing its  success.  In  these  days,  however,  we  may  ask  what  the 
real  worth  of  this  book  is,  and  what  has  been  effected  by  it  ? 

The  whole  of  Montesquieu's  work  emanated  from  the 
study  of  history.  It  is  true  that  he  does  not  deserve  the 
praise  of  having  earned  by  these  studies  the  name  of  a  ge- 
neral historian :  they  were  too  confined  for  that.  He  had 
studied  the  history  of  Rome  deeply,  that  of  Greece  with 
much  less  attention  ;  of  that  of  the  other  nations  of  antiquity 
he  knew  hardly  any  thing.  His  acquaintance  with  the  East, 
a  quarter  full  of  importance  to  his  inquiries,  was  confined  to 
what  a  few  books  of  travels  could  supply.  Of  the  histories 
of  the  middle  and  modern  ages,  those  of  France  had  inter- 
ested him  most,  those  of  Germany  and  England  next.  The 
limits  of  his  historical  studies  were  therefore  extremely  nar-: 
row ;  but  yet  they  embraced  that  diversity  which  was  requi- 
site for  his  purpose ;  and,  moreover,  he  had  pursued  these 
studies  in  a  spirit  such  as  none  of  his  predecessors  could 

'  It  was  first  published  in  1748, 


,^^ 


'1 


342 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


343 


boast,  not  even  Machiavel,  who,  as  the  founder  of  practical 
history  among  the  moderns,  might  otherwise  claim  a  place 
beside  him. 

The  object  of  Montesquieu  was  to  attain  by  the  study  of 
history  to  a  knowledge  of  the  very  essence  of  states  and  poli- 
tical constitutions — to  distinguish  the  peculiarities  of  each 
form ;  and  thus  to  deduce  maxims  for  the  administration  of 
the  different  branches  of  legislature  under  different  consti- 
tutions. 

His  field  was  therefore  of  boundless  extent  and  propor- 
tionate abundance ;  but  then  the  subjects  which  it  embraced 
possessed  of  themselves  the  highest  practical  interest,  and 
had  they  been  treated  with  only  moderate  ability,  the  first 
attempt  on  so  large  a  scale  could  not  have  failed  to  attract 
the  reader.  How  much  more,  then,  when  they  were  in  the 
hands  of  a  man  so  gifted  as  Montesquieu  !  Indeed,  inter- 
esting as  we  have  declared  the  subjects  to  be  of  which  he 
treats,  it  was  not  to  them,  but  to  his  manner  of  treating  of 
them,  that  his  work  owes  the  great  and  permanent  sensation 
wliich  it  produced.  The  method  which  he  adopted  of  giving 
no  finished  descriptions,  but  of  only  hinting  as  it  were  by 
outline ;  of  never  exhausting  his  subject,  and  yet  of  saying 
so  much  on  it  in  so  few  words ;  of  busying  not  only  the  rea- 
son, by  philosophical  argument  and  definition,  but  the  ima- 
gination, by  the  pictures  which  he  often  substituted  in  their 
room — above  all,  those  lightning  flashes  of  genius  which, 
perhaps,  blind  as  often  as  they  illustrate — all  this  was  ad- 
mirablv  calculated  to  secure  him  assent  and  admiration 
among  a  people  such  as  his  own. 

His  work  contained  inexhaustible  matter  of  thought  for 
those  who  wished  to  think  ;  whilst  those  who  were  too  in- 
dolent for  such  exertions  might  console  themselves  with  the 
belief  that  they  had  gathered  from  it  an  abundance  of  ready- 
made  thoughts,  and  these  of  the  brightest  description. 

This  exuberance  of  genius,  however,  was  unaccompanied 
by  a  true  philosophical  spirit.  The  mind  of  Montesquieu 
was  well  adapted  for  deriving  shrewd  remarks  from  expe- 
rience ;  but  for  all  matters  of  speculation,  as  far  as  that  con- 
sists in  the  definition  and  distinction  of  abstract  ideas,  he  was 
almost  totally  unfit — nay,  he  does  not  even  seem  to  have  once 
felt  the  want  of  it !   The  very  first  pages  of  his  work  show, 


what  has  before  been  justly  objected  to  him,  that  the  author 
of  the  Spirit  of  the  Laws  was  incapable  of  defining  rightly 
what  laws  are ;  and  it  is  evident  throughout  that  he  had  not 
a  clear  notion  of  the  first  principles  of  the  science  of  govern- 
ment. If  any  one  should  think  these  expressions  unjust, 
he  had  better  attempt  to  derive  from  Montesquieu's  own 
words  an  idea  of  the  essential  character  of  the  different 
kinds  of  government,  of  despotism,  aristocracy,  democracy, 
etc.  This  formed  the  very  foundation  of  his  scheme,  and 
yet  if  we  examine  it,  we  shall  not  wonder  at  any  uncertainty 
or  weakness  which  we  meet  with  in  the  superstructure.^ 

But  although  the  general  theory  of  government  gained  so 
little  from  Montesquieu,  although  his  whole  work  could  pre- 
tend to  be  nothing  more  than  an  assemblage  of  maxims,  the 
justness  and  applicability  of  which  it  was  left  to  the  reader 

*  It  was  not  without  due  consideration  that  I  first  pubUshed  my  opinion  of 
a  writer  of  such  high  authority,  and  one  whose  real  merits  I  fully  acknow- 
ledge. I  repeat  it  now  with  greater  confidence,  as  his  last  French  Reviewer 
has  fully  confirmed  it,  in  his  admirable  work,  Commentaire  Critique  sur 
VEsprit  de  Loix.par  Le  Comte  Destuth  De  Tracy,  1812;  translated,  with 
notes,  by  Professor  Morstadt,  Heidelberg,  1820. 

The  French  translator  of  this  treatise,  in  my  Melanges  Historiques,  Paris, 
1820,  has  endeavoured  to  soften  down  this  criticism,  by  stating  in  his  note, 
what  I  am  most  ready  to  admit,  viz.  That  I  have  only  considered  the  state  of 
science,  and  not  the  circumstances  of  the  time.  These,  however,  do  not  appear 
to  me  to  have  much  to  do  with  an  opinion  as  to  the  progress  of  the  theory. 

[The  following  passage  is  the  first  sentence  in  Montesquieu's  *  Spirit  of 

Laws:' "Les  loix  dans  la  signification  la  plus  etendue,  sont  les  rapports 

necessaires  qui  derivent  de  la  nature  des  choses:  et  dans  ce  sens  tons  les 
^tres  ont  leur  loix ;  la  Divinite  a  ses  loix,  le  monde  materiel  a  ses  loix,  les 
inteUigences  superieures  k  I'homme  ont  leurs  loix,  les  betes  ont  leur  loix, 
I'homme  a  ses  loix.*'  Now,  objects  widely  different,  though  bearing  a  com- 
mon name,  are  here  blended  and  confounded.  Of  the  laws  which  govern  the 
conduct  of  intelligent  and  rational  animals,  some  are  laws  imperative  and 
proper,  and  others  are  closely  analogous  to  laws  of  that  description.  But  the 
so  called  laws  which  govern  the  material  world,  with  the  so  called  laws  which 
govern  the  lower  animals,  are  merely  laws  by  a  metaphor.  And  the  so  called 
laws  which  govern  or  determine  the  Deity,  are  clearly  in  the  same  predica- 
ment. If  his  notions  were  governed  and  determined  by  laws  imperative  and 
proper,  he  would  be  in  a  state  of  dependence  on  another  and  superior  being. 
When  we  say  that  the  actions  of  the  Deity  are  governed  or  determined  by 
laws,  we  mean  that  they  conform  to  intentions  which  the  Deity  himself  has 
conceived,  and  which  he  pursues  or  observes  with  inflexible  steadiness  or 
constancy.  To  mix  these  figurative  laws  with  laws  imperative  and  proper,  is 
to  obscure,  and  not  to  elucidate,  the  nature  or  essence  of  the  latter.  The  be- 
ginning of  the  passage  is  worthy  of  the  sequel.  We  are  told  that  laws  are 
the  necessary  relations  which  flow  from  the  nature  of  things.  But  what,  I 
would  crave,  are  relations?  What,  I  would  also  crave,  is  the  nature  of 
things  ?  And  how  do  the  necessary  relations  which  flow  from  the  nature  of 
things  differ  from  those  relations  which  originate  in  other  sources?  The 
terms  of  the  definition  are  incomparably  more  obscure  than  the  term  which 
it  affects  to  expound."    Austin,  on  Jurisprudence,  p.  191.    Tr.] 


344 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


345 


to  determine,  it  did  not  on  that  account  work  less  effect- 
ually. It  contained,  in  the  first  place,  an  inexhaustible 
treasure  for  the  practical  study  of  history ;  and  although 
there  are  many  single  opinions  and  assertions  in  which  we 
may  not  agree  with  Montesquieu,  yet  his  labours  served  suf- 
ficiently to  point  out  the  advantages  which  might  be  de- 
rived from  the  study  of  history,  as  well  as  the  manner  in 
which  these  pursuits  should  be  directed  in  order  to  attain 
them.  Besides  this,  it  derived  great  influence  upon  the 
spirit  and  way  of  thinking  of  the  people  of  France,  from  the 
occurrences  of  the  time  at  which  it  appeared.  During  the 
regency  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  as  well  as  after  the  succes- 
sion of  Lewis  XV.,  the  most  shameless  corruption  pervaded 
the  whole  government ;  the  main  cause  of  this  was  usually 
held  to  be  the  systematic  suppression  of  the  national  free- 
dom, the  remains  of  which  were  occasionally  perceptible  in 
the  struggles  with  the  parliament ;  while  it  ought,  with 
much  more  truth,  to  have  been  attributed  to  the  state  of 
morality,  especially  among  the  higher  orders,  to  which  no 
constitutional  forms  could  have  offered  an  impediment. 
The  favourite  maxims  of  Montesquieu  were  thus  readily  ap- 
preciated by  the  spirit  of  the  day — his  unrestrained  attach- 
ment to  mixed  constitutions,  especially  that  of  Great  Britain, 
could  not  fail  to  procure  him  a  host  of  supporters.  He  met 
public  opinion  half  way — was  it  astonishing  then  that  he 
should  be  received  with  so  much  applause  ? 

The  spirit  of  political  discussion  was  fairly  awakened  by 
him  among  his  countrymen,  never  again  to  be  lulled  to  rest, 
and  from  that  time  forth  legislation,  and  the  best  modes  of 
adapting  it  to  the  end  proposed,  became  one  of  the  subjects 
to  which  thinking  men  chiefly  turned  their  attention.  Mon- 
tesquieu, therefore,  contributed  largely  towards  including  it 
in  the  subject-matter  of  philosophy,  although  his  own  in- 
quiries proceeded  from  the  study  of  history,  and  not  from 
the  philosophy  of  the  day. 

In  fact,  of  all  those  men  who  were  at  first  distinguished,  as 
they  are  now  branded,  with  the  name  of  philosophers,  not  one 
had  attained  to  any  eminence  in  France  till  long  after  Mon- 
tesquieu had  began  to  busy  himself  on  his  '  Spirit  of  Laws.'^ 

With  all  the  imperfections  and  deficiencies  of  his  work, 

'  According  to  his  own  account,  Montesquieu  was  occupied  for  twenty  years 
on  that  work.     See  the  end  of  his  preface. 


Montesquieu  has  the  merit  then  of  having  directed  men's 
inquiries  into  the  paths  of  experience.  From  the  diff'usion 
of  his  principles  reform  indeed  might  have  been  expected, 
but  not  revolution;  for  although  he  was  the  enlightened 
supporter  of  a  limited  monarchical  constitution,  he  had  not 
on  that  account  endeavoured — even  in  France — to  shake 
the  foundation  upon  which  the  existing  order  of  things  had 
for  so  long  rested.  He  was  far  from  desiring  general  po- 
litical equality ;  on  the  contrary,  he  maintained  that  under 
a  monarchy,  the  leading  principle  of  which  ought,  according 
to  him,  to  be  honour,  the  existence  of  a  nobility  is  requisite, 
to  prevent  despotism  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  tyranny  of 
the  people  on  the  other ;  nor  did  he  ever  reject  the  clergy 
as  an  estate  of  the  realm,  although  he  wished  some  restric- 
tion of  their  privileges,  especially  with  regard  to  their  ju- 
risdiction} If,  therefore,  the  idea  of  a  monarchy  limited  by 
representation  of  the  people,  became  cherished  by  the  greater 
part  of  the  people  of  France,  as  the  result  of  the  first  na- 
tional assembly  proved  to  be  the  case,  this  must  be  mainly 
attributed,  next  to  the  example  supplied  by  England,  to  the 
work  of  Montesquieu.  That  this  very  national  assembly, 
however,  far  outwent  the  intentions  of  Montesquieu,  by  lay- 
ing down  the  principle  of  universal  political  equality,  need 
not,  after  what  we  have  said,  be  any  further  insisted  upon. 

And  this  brings  us  back  to  the  point  from  whence  we 
started,  viz.  a  review  of  the  theorists  of  Geneva,  and  espe- 
cially of  him  whose  work  became  the  text  book  of  revolution. 
How  far  it  was  adapted  to  this  purpose,  how  far  the  princi- 
ples practically  applied  were  really  contained  in  it,  is  a  pomt 
well  worth  our  determining.  But  in  order  to  gain  a  just 
view  of  the  "  Contrat  Social,"  we  must  first  bestow  a  glance 

upon  its  origin. 

The  "  Contrat  Social"  originated  in  a  manner  directly 
contrary  to  the  "  Esprit  des  Loix" — the  latter  was  the  result 
of  experience,  supplied  by  the  study  of  history ;  the  former 
was  the  product  of  pure  speculation,  which  Rousseau  had 
been  led  to  apply  to  politics  from  his  earlier  inquiries  as  to 
the  origin  of  a  disparity  among  mankind.  Nevertheless, 
however  abstract  the  studies  of  Rousseau  may  have  been,  it 
is  very  certain  that  the  theory  of  government  which  he  en- 

'  Esprit  des  Loix^  ii.  cap.  4. 


346 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


tertained,  could  have  been  entertained  by  none  but  "  the 
citizen  of  Geneva;''  not  that  the  principles  which  he  advo- 
cated were  those  which  obtained  a  practical  influence  in 
Geneva,  but  if  any  speculative  thinker  had  set  himself  to 
mould  the  opinions  favoured  by  the  democratical  and  op- 
position party  into  a  political  system,  and  to  establish  them 
upon  philosophical  grounds,  such  a  work  as  the  "  Contrat 
Social"  must  inevitably  have  been  the  result.  It  requires  a 
very  slight  acquaintance  with  this  treatise  to  perceive  that 
Rousseau  had  continually  before  his  eyes  a  small  and  free 
state,  as  being,  in  fact,  the  only  one  in  which  his  principles 
could,  to  their  full  extent,  become  applicable.  We  may 
therefore  justly  say,  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  political 
progress  of  Geneva,  the  "  Contrat  Social"  would  never  have 
been  written.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  the  already  great, 
although  indirect,  influence  of  this  little  repubhc  upon  the 
practical  politics  of  Europe,  became  by  it  immense. 

It  was  not  Rousseau's  design,  as  it  was  Montesquieu's,  to 
produce  a  rich  collection  of  political   rules  and   maxims, 
scientifically  arranged — he  sought  rather  to  establish  the 
general  principles   of  government   upon   a  philosophical 
foundation.     In  accordance  with  the  object  of  our  present 
work,  it  must  be  shown  how  he  accomplished  this,  and  more 
especially,  how,  in  so  doing,  he  diverged  from  the  paths  of 
his  predecessors,  and  was  thus  led  off'  to  a  different  conclusion. 
Rousseau,  although  he  differs  from  both  Hobbes  and  Locke 
in  his  description  of  it,  proceeds,  like  them,  from  a  "  state  of 
nature,"  out  of  which  he  supposes  men  to  have  advanced  into 
civil  society  by  a  voluntary  contract.     This  contract,  how- 
ever, is  not  concluded  between  the  people  and  their  rulers, 
but  between  the  different  members  of  the  community  itself, 
and  must,  as  no  man  has  a  natural  right  over  his  fellow,  be 
the  result  of  unanimous  agreement.     This  "pacte  social" 
has  no  other  object  than  to  procure  social  institutions,  under 
which  the  power  of  all  may  be  exercised  for  the  protection 
of  the  persons  and  property  of  each.      Each  individual, 
while  he  thus  associates  himself  with  all,  being  yet  under 
the  authority  of  none  but  himself,  and  thus  as  free  as  before. 
All  the  articles  of  the  contract  may  be  reduced  to  this  one : 
that  every  man  resigns  himself  and  his  rights,  without  re- 
serve, to  the  society  ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  he  puts  him- 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


347 


self  and  his  person  under  the  direction  of  the  will  of  the 
community.  In  this  manner  the  society  forms  itself  into  a 
moral  personage,  or  a  body  which,  as  such,  is  intrusted  with 
sovereignty,  and  becomes  the  sovereign.  This  sovereignty, 
however,  is  nothing  but  the  exercise  of  the  will  of  the  com- 
munity, and,  as  such,  is  not  only  intransferable,  but  also,  as 
a  natural  consequence,  indivisible. 

But  as  the  exercise  of  the  will  of  the  community  is  ef- 
fected by  legislation,  the  legislative  power  must  of  necessity 
be  lodged  with  the  people — the  people,  then,  is  sovereign; 
and,  as  its  sovereignty  is  intransferable,  can  never  cease  to 
be  so.  This  power  cannot  be  exercised  in  any  other  way 
than  by  assemblies  of  the  people,  in  which  every  man  gives 
his  vote,  and  the  vote  of  every  man  is  as  good  as  that  of  his 
fellows.  The  idea  of  popular  representatives,  as  exercising 
the  sovereignty  of  the  people,  is  an  absurdity,  since  that  so- 
vereignty cannot  be  transferred.  Representatives,  so  called, 
can  be  nothing  more  than  agents,  whose  resolutions  must  be 
submitted  to  the  people  for  ratification.  When  this  social 
contract  was  established,  all  who  took  a  part  in  it  were  free, 
and  of  equal  rights.  And  the  maintenance  of  this  freedom, 
and  this  equality,  is  necessarily  the  object  of  all  legislation, 
as  without  it  society  could  not  exist. 

The  equality  here  meant,  however,  does  not  require  that 
all  power,  and  all  property,  should  be  absolutely  equal ;  but 
only  that  the  power  of  no  man  shall  be  suflficient  to  commit 
violence  ;  and  that  the  wealth  of  none  shall  be  so  great  as 
to  enable  them  to  buy  others ;  the  poverty  of  none  such  as 
to  induce  them  to  submit  to  being  bought. 

But  as  the  state,  in  its  corporate  capacity,  not  only  wills, 
but  acts,  there  must  be  an  executive  as  well  as  a  legislative 
power.  This  requires  a  government,  i.  e.  a  body  interposed 
between  the  sovereign  and  the  subject.^  This  government, 
however,  is  nothing  more  than  a  committee  appointed  by  the 
sovereign  people,  the  establishment  of  which  does  not  re- 
quire, or  even  admit  of,  a  mutual  contract,  inasmuch  as  it 
is  in  perpetual  dependence  on  the  sovereign  power.  As  re- 
gards its  constitution,  it  may  consist  of  one,  or  more,  or  all; 

*  That  is,  the  people  may  be  considered  both  as  sovereign  (inasmuch  as 
they  make  laws),  and  as  subject  (inasmuch  as  they  obey  them).  Sovereign 
and  subject  here  apply  to  the  same  persons  in  two  different  relations. 


348 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


from  which  variety  the  three  forms  of  monarchy,  aristocracy, 
and  democracy  have  arisen^ — although  the  last  of  these,  con- 
sidered as  an  executive  government,  is  an  absurdity.  On  the 
whole,  it  appears  to  be  best  that  this  power  should  be  lodged 
in  the  hands  of  one  ;  but  then  it  is  impossible  that  great  mon- 
archies should  be  well  governed — and  besides,  an  hereditary 
monarchy  has  very  great  disadvantages. 

These  are,  according  to  Rousseau,  the  general  grounds  of 
all  government.  We  shall  now  find  little  difficulty  in  re- 
marking the  points  on  which  he  differed  from  his  predeces- 
sors, Hobbes  and  Locke. 

With  Hobbes,  Rousseau  agreed  in  founding  political  so- 
ciety upon  a  contract ;  but  then  Hobbes  supposed  this  con- 
tract to  be  between  the  community  and  its  own  constituted 
authorities,  and  that  it  was  a  contract  of  absolute  submission, 
by  which  it  transferred  the  sovereignty  without  reserve. 
The  original  contract  of  Rousseau,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
only  between  the  individuals  who  by  that  act  established 
civil  society ;  between  these,  again,  and  the  government 
there  was  not,  nor  could  there  be,  any  agreement,  as  it 
consists  only  of  commissioners,  deputed  by  the  sovereign 
people.  Thus  the  several  routes  of  Hobbes  and  Rousseau 
separated  at  the  first  step,  and  that  with  no  prospect  of  re- 
uniting, as  they  were  directed  towards  two  opposite  marks ; 
that  of  Hobbes  to  unlimited  monarchy,  that  of  Rousseau  to 
the  absolute  power  of  the  people.  The  two  are  alike  only  in 
this  point,  that  both  tended  to  despotism,  although  Rousseau 
has  the  advantage  in  phrase,  for  the  despotism  of  a  mob, 
blinded  by  its  own  passions,  may  still  retain  the  honourable 
title  of  liberty,  while  it  is  denied  to  the  single  tyranny  ad- 
vocated by  Hobbes.  It  would  be  useless  to  pursue  further 
our  comparison  between  them,  as  their  points  of  difference 
are  sufficiently  perceptible. 

With  Locke,  Rousseau  proceeded  a  few  steps  further  be- 
fore he  separated  from  him.     He  asserted  with  him  the  ori- 

'  Rousseau  was,  as  far  as  I  know,  the  first  writer  who  felt,  although  he  did 
not  fully  explain,  the  double  meaning  of  the  word  democracy ;  viz.  as  signify- 
ing either  a  form  of  constitution,  or  a  form  of  government. 

I  must  refer,  on  this  subject,  to  my  treatise  already  mentioned.  See  above, 
p.  336,  note  '. 

As  a  form  of  government 'RousseaiU.  considered,  and  rightly,  that  a  democracy 
is  absurd. 

As  a,  form  of  constitution  it  was  precisely  what  he  sought  to  establish. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


349 


ffinal  freedom  and  equality  which  the  defenders  of  unlimited 
monarchy  denied.  And  consequently  he  agreed  with  him 
also  in  making  the  social  state  to  proceed  from  a  contract 

among  freemen.  ,    n  i     ,     ,  .    i 

Security  of  person  and  property  was  held  by  both  to  be 
the  chief  object  of  civil  union.     And  they  both  agreed  in 
considering  the  legislative  power  as  peculiarly  belonging  to 
sovereignty — that  sovereignty  being  by  either  ascribed  to 
the  people,  or  bulk  of  the  society.     But  then,  according  to 
Locke,  the  sovereignty  might  be  transferred— according  to 
Rousseau  it  is  wkolli/  intransferable :  according  to  Locke  it 
might  be  t/ivic/e^  among  different  parties— according  to  Rous- 
seau it  must  remain  undivided  in  the  hands  of  the  people. 
At  this  point,  then,  the  two  paths  separate,  and  it  is  easy 
to  see  the  conclusion  to  which  that  of  either  necessarily  led — 
Locke  arrived  at  the  Represeritative  System  and  a  limited 
Monarchy,  by  the  union  of  which  the  legislative  power, 
although  partially  shared  by  the  prince,  is  mainly  in  the 
hands  of  the  representatives  of  the  people  :  Rousseau  could 
not,  according  to  his  principles,  admit  any  form  but  pure 
Democracy,  as  far  as  that  consists  in  the  legislative  functions 
being  exercised  by  the  whole  body  of  the  people  without 
any  transfer  to  representatives,  or  any  participation  of  other 
powers  in  the  government. 

I  trust  that  these  observations  will  suffice  to  explain  the 
chief  points  which  characterize  the  several  political  systems 
which  we  have  examined,  and  to  distinguish  them  from  each 
other.  All  that  can  be  accomplished  by  pure  speculation 
towards  laying  the  foundations  of  civil  society,  and  determin- 
ing the  best  methods  for  its  constitution,  appears  to  have 
been  achieved  by  these  three  authors.  Hobbes  and  Rous- 
seau take  their  place  at  either  extreme— the  one  in  support 
of  the  total  transfer  of  the  sovereignty  into  the  hands  of  the 
regent — the  other  to  assert  that  the  sovereignty  is  wholly  in- 
transferable  by  the  people  whose  right  it  is ;  whilst  Locke 
holds  a  middle  course  between  the  two. 

It  remains  that  we  should  consider  these  systems,  espe- 
cially that  of  Rousseau,  with  regard  to  their  practical  ap- 
plication. 

They  all  three  proceed  from  a  contract,  which,  as  founded 
on  the  supposition  that  it  was  framed  by  a  people  who  never, 


350 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


till  then,  had  constituted  a  state,  neither  has,  nor  ever  could 
have  taken  place.  All  the  three,  then,  thus  at  once  forsook 
reality,  and  struck  into  paths  which  threatened  new  dangers 
at  every  step  which  carried  them  away  from  it.  The  poli- 
tical principles  of  Hobbes  were,  however,  less  exposed  than 
those  of  the  other  two,  because  the  absolute  power  which 
he  sought  to  establish  upon  rightful  grounds,  cares  little  for 
such  support,  and  can  maintain  itself  without  it.  Moreover, 
the  course  of  events  in  his  own  country  deprived  them 
alike  of  authority  and  of  practical  adoption  there. 

The  doctrines  of  Locke,  on  the  contrary,  had  for  the  most 
part  been  already  applied  in  England,  and  only  had  the 
effect  of  supplying  other  countries  with  philosophical  rea- 
sons for  that  attachment  to  the  British  constitution  which 
had  become  almost  universal  throughout  Europe  previous 
to  the  late  revolutions.  As  a  contrast  to  this,  the  system  of 
Rousseau  floated  like  Aristophanes'  City  of  the  Birds,  free 
and  without  support  in  the  air.  For  while  Rousseau  asserts 
that  the  will  of  the  community  is  always  just,  and  has  for  its 
object  the  general  good  of  the  community,  he  is  undoubtedly 
right  that  the  common  will,  as  far  as  it  is  the  result  of  pure 
reason,  will  be  directed  towards  that  which  is  best  for  the 
community.  But  then,  this  common  will  must  remain  to 
all  practical  purposes  an  empty  vision,  unless  it  has  some 
organ  by  which  it  may  be  clearly  and  surely  expressed. 
This  Rousseau  would  have  done  by  the  voice  of  the  assem- 
bled people  itself,  but  he  neither  can,  nor  does  deny  that 
this  method  is  often  fallacious,  or,  to  use  his  own  words, 
that  the  will  of  all  does  not  always  express  the  common 
will.  The  people  may  be  often  deceived  and  led  astray,  and 
Rousseau  knows  no  expedient  against  it,  except — that  we 
ought  to  be  on  our  guard. ^ 

None,  then,  of  these  metaphysical  speculations  on  govern- 
ment can  be  said  to  have  done  much  for  the  practical  appli- 
cation of  the  science.  But  even  if  we  were  disposed  to  agree 
with  Rousseau  as  to  the  organ  by  which  the  common  will  is 
to  be  expressed,  no  great  harm  would  be  done,  for  his  sys- 
tem could  not  possibly  take  effect  in  a  state  of  any  consider- 
able size.  By  denying  all  transfer  of  the  sovereign  will  to 
representatives,  he  requires,  at  the  outset,  that  there  should 

This  important  chapter  is  to  be  found  in  the  Contrat  Social,  ii.  3. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


351 


be  general  assemblies  of  the  people  which  must  be  convened 
upon  every  occasion ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that,  however 
readily  this  might  be  accomplished  in  small  towns  and  their 
adjacent  territory,  it  would  be  wholly  out  of  the  question  in 
larger  states — nay,  Rousseau  himself  declares  that  these  can 
only  be  formed  by  federations  of  the  smaller.  If,  therefore, 
that  party  in  France,  which  looked  upon  his  writings  as  their 
standard,  had  v^ished  to  act  consistently,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  of  what  his  fate  would  have  been  had  he  been  then 
alive.  As  an  opponent  of  the  representative  system,  which 
they  established  to  its  full  extent,  and  as  a  supporter  of  fe- 
derative republics,  which  according  to  their  principles  was 
a  capital  crime,  he  would  have  been  doubly  destined  to  the 
guillotine ! 

Nevertheless,  Rousseau's  influence  upon  the  revolution 
was  incalculably  great ;  not  in  the  sense  of  his  being  the 
originator  of  it,  for  that  would  be  a  short-sighted  view,  but 
inasmuch  as  the  direction  which  the  revolution  took  was  in 
a  great  measure  determined  by  him.  Some  great  name, 
some  high  authority  was  required  ;  several  of  his  ideas  were, 
therefore,  taken  up — that  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people — 
of  general  freedom  and  equality — and  that  of  the  greatest 
possible  separation  of  the  legislative  and  executive  powers 
— and  were  made  the  foundations  of  the  new  system.  It 
was  no  doubt  Rousseau,  who  first  expanded  and  perfected 
these  notions,  although  he  did  not  originally  propose  them  ; 
but  even  if  he  had  desired  the  total  overthrow  of  existing 
things  in  order  to  establish  his  own  system,  (and  there  is  no 
reason  to  accuse  him  of  such  a  wish,)  he  would  never  have 
tolerated  a  partial  application  of  it.  This  was  to  abuse,  not 
to  use,  and  it  would  be  unjust  therefore  to  make  him  an- 
swerable for  it. 

Nevertheless,  however  willing  we  may  be  to  acquit  Rous- 
seau of  any  design  of  causing  revolutions,  yet  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  not  only  those  which  Europe  has  experienced 
since  his  time,  but  those  which  threaten  it  still,  may  be 
traced  to  the  principal  maxim  upon  which  his  system  rests. 

This  maxim  is  the  sovereignty  of  the  people.  The  dan- 
ger with  which  it  threatened  the  practice  of  politics  did  not, 
however,  consist  in  the  maxim  itself,  for  the  sovereignity 
may  doubtless  be  in  the  hands  of  the  people.    It  was  rather 


Sb2 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


in  Rousseau's  belief  that  this  sovereignty  may  be  associated 
with  monarchy.  The  boundary  line  between  monarchy  and 
republicanism  was  thus  wholly  effaced,  and  the  way  prepared 
to  errors  for  which  Europe  has  already  in  part  atoned,  and 
still  atones  most  dearly.  It  might  surely  have  been  thought, 
that  after  the  science  of  government  had  been  treated  of 
for  centuries,  after  it  had  been  laid  down  upon  every  occa- 
sion, that  monarchy  and  republicanism  are  forms  of  govern- 
ment in  direct  opposition  to  each  other,  it  might  have  been 
thought,  I  say,  that  the  peculiar  character  of  each  would 
have  been  fully  understood,  and  their  limits  distinctly  mark- 
ed :  but  when  a  philosopher,  such  as  Rousseau,  either  does 
not  know,  or  pays  no  attention  to  this ;  when  the  practical 
policy  of  whole  nations,  and  of  their  representatives,  is  car- 
ried on  without  any  respect  to  it, — we  have  a  right  to  con- 
clude that  either  these  lines  have  never  been  clearly  drawn, 
or  (which  amounts  to  the  same  thing  in  practice)  that  they 
have  in  time  become  forgotten.  And  yet  there  could  not 
be  a  moment  at  which  such  an  error  would  be  more  fatal 
than  the  present.  We  have  no  longer  to  consider  mere 
speculation  and  theory,  the  question  which  concerns  us  is 
one  of  fearful  practical  importance. 

Europe,  after  having  apparently  escaped  from  the  dan- 
gers of  democracy,  is  on  the  verge  of  seeing  either  monarch- 
ical republics,  or  republics  under  the  name  of  monarchies, 
occupying  the  chief  places  among  her  states.  I  hold  these 
to  be  more  formidable  dangers  even  than  those  from  which 
she  has  escaped.  Of  the  comparative  advantages  of  mon- 
archies and  republics  nothing  general  can  be  asserted.  It 
is  possible  to  live  happily  or  unhappily  in  either,  according 
to  the  turn  which  events  may  take.  But  we  may  be  sure 
that  a  nation  (with  individuals  we  have  nothing  to  do)  can 
never  be  happy  in  a  pseudo-monarchy  or  a  pseudo-repub- 
lic, because  such  a  form  of  government  is  contradictory  to 
itself — The  history  of  Poland,  as  it  was,  affords  at  once  a 
warning  and  an  example  ! 

We  wish,  therefore,  either  for  actual  monarchies,  or  ac- 
tual republics.  Now  the  European  political  system  has  been 
for  centuries  monarchical.  All  the  chief  states  received  the 
name  of  monarchies,  and  were  so  in  reality. 

The  free  states  belonging  to  it  were  of  the  second  or  third 


I 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


353 


rank.  Nothing,  therefore,  short  of  the  most  violent  revolu- 
tions could  be  supposed  capable  of  changing  this  character 
into  its  opposite. 

What,  then,  is  the  boundary  between  the  two  ?  We  know 
only  one,  and  that  must  be  determined  by  the  possession  of 
the  sovereig7ity  or  chief  power.  The  essential  distinction  of 
monarchy  consists  in  this  being  held  by  the  prince — that  of 
a  republic  in  its  being  possessed  by  the  people,  or  a  certain 
portion  of  them.  A  republic,  as  well  as  a  monarchy,  has 
but  one  chief  officer,  but  then  the  relation  in  which  this 
officer  stands  to  the  people  is  very  different  in  the  two — in 
a  monarchy  he  is  above^  in  a  republic  he  is  below,  the 
people.  In  the  former  he  is^  prince,  or  sovereign  (whatever 
title  he  may  bear)  ;  in  the  latter  he  is  magistrate.  Common 
parlance,  which  is  generally  the  echo  of  sound  reason,  has 
long  drawn  this  distinction ;  it  is  only  by  the  sophisms  of 
theorists  that  it  became  confused.  The  kings  of  France  and 
England  have  the  name  of  sovereigns,  and  are  so.  The 
President  of  America  and  the  Landammann  of  Switzerland 
neither  receive  the  title,  nor  are  they  sovereigns. 

But  this  "  holding  of  power  over  the  people,''  this  sove- 
reignty of  monarchs,  what  does  it,  and  what  does  it  not, 
essentially  imply  ?  For  it  is  only  by  an  accurate  answer  to 
this  question  that  we  can  determine  what  is  essentially  ne- 
cessary to  the  support  of  the  monarchical  principle  in 
existing  states. 

It  implies,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  prince  should 
possess  his  dignity  independently  of  the  people :  in  other 
words,  that  the  crown  should  be  hereditary  and  inviolable. 
Elective  kingdoms,  where  the  election  is  only  in  favour  of 
the  individual,  and  not  of  his  heirs,  are  not  true  monarchies. 
Whoever  is  chosen  merely  as  regards  his  own  person,  is  by 
the  very  act  of  his  election  subjected  to  the  people,  what- 

^  It  would  appear,  however,  that  we  have  authority  against  us  on  this 
point  in  Frederick  the  Great,  who  called  himself  "  a  Servant  of  the  State, 
who  had  his  duty  to  perform  like  others." — Nevertheless,  Frederick  was 
undoubtedly  master  in  his  dominion,  and  it  is  impossible  to  be  at  once 
master  and  servant.  Had  he  chosen  to  follow  out  this  idea,  the  truth,  and 
the  falsehood  contained  in  it,  would  have  been  easily  shown. 

He  was  no  doubt  a  servant  in  a  moral  sense  of  the  word,  since,  as  a  man, 
he  wfis  subject  to  the  law  of  conscience,  which  obliges  alike  princes  and 
servants  to  do  their  duty ;  but  in  a  political  sense  he  was  not  so,  as  he  did 
not  serve  the  state  but  rule  it.  For  the  rest,  Frederick  knew  very  well  the 
distinction  between  himself  as  king,  and  Washington  as  President. 

2  A 


354 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


ever  prerogatives  may  be  formally  assigned  to  him. — 
Whoever  is  chosen  merely  as  regards  his  own  person,  may 
also  be  deposed  by  his  electors,  however  differently  it  may 
stand  upon  paper. 

It  is  otherwise  with  those  who  are  elected  to  an  heredi- 
tary crown. 

Such  cases  may  occur  by  the  actual  extinction  of  the 
reigning  house,  by  abdication,  and  so  forth,  where  there  is 
no  one  who  has  an  hereditary  claim.  There  are  accidents 
which  no  human  power  or  wisdom  can  prevent,  and  on  the 
occurrence  of  which,  the  best  means  which  present  them- 
selves must  be  adopted,  and  thus  election  is  often  the  only, 
or  at  least  the  most  reasonable,  expedient.  But  then,  if  the 
power  bestowed  by  election  be  made  hereditary,  the  person 
who  receives  it  is  at  once  raised  above  the  people  or  the 
electors,  as  the  possession  of  the  throne  is  then  no  longer  a 
prerogative  of  the  person  but  of  the  dynasty.  The  name  of 
elective  monarchies  has  therefore  been  very  justly  restricted 
to  those  in  which  every  vacancy  of  the  throne  is  filled  up 
by  election.  That  such  states  are  the  most  unhappily  con- 
stituted, both  as  regards  themselves  and  the  other  states 
with  which  they  unite  in  forming  a  political  system,  the 
history  of  all  times  will  show.  Fortunately  for  Europe, 
elective  monarchies  have — with  the  exception  of  the  papal 
government,  the  mode  of  election  to  which  hardly  entitles 
it  to  the  name — entirely  disappeared  from  its  system  ;  and 
with  them  the  danger  of  those  general  wars  with  which  the 
vacancy  of  the  kingly  throne  of  Poland,  or  the  imperial  one 
of  Germany,  was  wont  to  threaten  the  continent. 

The  inviolability  of  the  sovereign,  i.  e.  the  principle  that 
he  is  not  in  person  accountable,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be 
brought  to  punishment,  is  implied,  as  a  matter  of  course,  in 
true  monarchies  :  for  who  in  such  monarchies  is  able  to  call 
him  to  account  ?  But  if  this  should  be  included  as  an  article 
in  any  of  our  new  constitutions,  it  would  be  either  super- 
fluous or  absurd  ;  superfluous  in  a  true  monarchy — absurd 
in  a  fictitious  one,  where  the  sovereignty  is  reserved  to  the 
people,  for  it  would  be  a  contradiction  to  exempt  a  delegate 
from  being  accountable  to  his  superiors.  Nor  is  it  any  secret 
that,  notwithstanding  all  written  declarations  and  assurances, 
there  is  always  in  such  states  a  way  open  for  the  deposition, 
imprisonment,  and  even  execution  of  the  prince. 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


355 


The  idea  of  sovereignty  further  implies,  and  that  neces- 
sarily. That  in  all  affairs  of  the  state,  nothing  shall  be  do7je 
either  without  or  contrary  to  the  will  of  the  sovereign. 
Where  this  is  not  the  case,  he  ceases  to  be  sovereign 
(supremus). 

By  this  essential  condition,  which,  indeed,  results  from 
the  nature  of  the  thing,  we  ascertain  the  relation  in  which, 
under  constitutional  monarchies,  the  sovereign  must  stand 
towards  the  people  or  their  representatives ;  and  we  are 
enabled  to  draw  the  line  of  demarcation  which  must  not  be 
passed  if  the  sovereign  is  to  remain  such. 

Constitutional  monarchies  are  those  in  which  there  is  a 
popular  power,  generally  called  the  Chambers,  which  re- 
present the  interests  of  the  people  in  the  councils  of  the 
prince,  without,  however,  opposing  his  interests,  as  it  is 
too  customary  to  imagine  they  do — the  interests  of  both 
being  the  same — viz.  the  prosperity  of  the  state. 

This  power  not  only  advises,  but  joins  with  the  prince  in 
deciding ;  still,  however,  it  must  be  in  some  manner  de- 
pendent upon  him  if  he  is  to  remain  sovereign,  and  be  a 
prince  not  in  name  only  but  in  reality.  Upon  the  relation, 
then,  in  which  the  prince  stands  to  the  chambers,  the  main- 
tenance of  the  monarchical  principle  chiefly  depends,  and 
we  must,  therefore,  consider  what  rights  ought  in  this  respect 
to  be  secured  to  him. 

In  speaking  of  the  Chambers  we  here  understand  that 
both,  or  at  least  one  of  them,  is  to  consist  of  deputies  chosen 
by  the  people.  It  is  doubtless  more  in  favour  of  the  throne  that 
the  assembly  should  consist  of  two  chambers,  one  of  which 
should  be  composed  of  members  not  chosen  by  the  people, 
but  possessing  their  seats  either  by  right  of  birth  or  by  ap- 
pointment of  the  sovereign ;  but  it  cannot  be  shown  that 
this  IS  generally  necessary.  Sometimes,  indeed,  chambers 
of  peers  are  neither  necessary  to  the  throne,  nor  any  support 
to  it ;  nay,  France  has  lately  shown  by  example  that  a  pow- 
erful opposition  may  be  formed  in  them. 

The  division  into  two  chambers  affords  greater  security, 
however,  against  party  decisions,  and  makes  it  more  difficult 
for  factions  to  be  formed,  and  their  interests  preferred  to 
those  of  the  state.  It  is  necessary,  however,  that  the  two 
chambers  should  not  have  two  interests,  and  that  the  mem-> 

2a2 


356 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


bers  of  the  one  should  not  possess  any  privileges  which  are 
burdensome  to  the  other,  for  without  this,  unanimity  cannot 
be  expected  between  them. 

The  rights  of  the  prince  in  his  relation  with  the  chambers, 
as  far  as  these  proceed  from  the  definition  of  sovereignty, 
may  be  reduced  into  three  classes,  viz.  Those  which  have 
reference  to  outward  form — those  which  have  reference  to 
the  subject  matter  on  which  his  power  is  to  be  exerted — 
and  those  which  regard  the  share  which  the  prince  is  to 
take  in  the  councils  of  the  nation,  and  the  influence  which 
he  is  to  exercise  over  them. 

As  regards  the  outward  forms,  the  idea  of  sovereignty 
requires  that  the  chambers  should  be  in  strict  subjection  to 
the  prince.  These  outward  forms  are  the  barriers  which 
are  to  protect  the  crown  from  the  inroads  of  the  chambers. 
They  should  be  determined  by  the  charter  of  the  constitu- 
tion, and  it  should  be  incumbent  on  the  prince  to  maintain 
them  in  full  force. 

The  chambers  are  not  to  assemble  without,  or  in  opposi- 
tion to,  the  will  of  the  sovereign.  They  are  to  be  opened 
by  him,  to  be  prorogued,  and  to  be  closed  by  him  ;  and  he 
must  at  all  times  possess  the  right  of  dissolving  the  existing 
chamber,  and  of  calling  for  a  new  election  of  its  members. 
When  chambers  assemble,  prorogue,  adjourn,  and  dissolve 
of  their  own  authority,  the  assembly  takes  place  at  once 
without  the  will  of  the  prince,  and  will  very  soon  be  held  in 
opposition  to  it.  Again,  a  chamber  which  cannot  be  dis- 
solved by  the  prince  is  independent,  and  superior  to  him. 
He  has  no  means  of  escaping  from  its  tyranny  if  it  should 
form  itself  into  a  faction,  and  no  opportunity  of  discovering 
whether  it  represents  the  wishes  of  its  constituents,  or  stands 
in  direct  opposition  to  them.  It  is  only  by  a  new  election 
that  this  can  be  certainly  determined.  It  is  requisite,  there- 
fore, not  only  for  the  interests  of  the  prince,  but  for  those  of 
the  people  also,  that  he  should  have  the  power  of  dissolving 
the  chamber  of  representatives. 

In  regard  to  the  subjects  which  are  to  be  discussed  by  the 
chambers,  we  may  remark  at  once  that  all  the  foreign 
affairs  of  the  state  are  to  be  beyond  their  jurisdiction,  and 
appropriated  to  the  prince.  In  treating  with  other  states 
the  prince  must  be  considered  as  the  representative  of  his 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


357 


own,  otherwise  they  cannot  deal  with  him  with  any  safety ; 
should  it  be  done  only  "  sub  spe  rati,"  they  will  no  longer 
consider  him  as  sovereign,  but  as  the  delegate  of  a  superior 
power.  The  maintenance  of  the  monarchical  principle  re- 
quires, therefore,  according  to  our  views,  that  not  only  all 
treaties  of  commerce  and  alliance,  but  that  all  declarations 
of  war  and  conclusions  of  peace,  should  be  absolutely  in  the 
hands  of  the  prince.  This,  however,  does  not  by  any  means 
exclude  the  chambers  from  debating  upon  foreign  policy, 
and  from  giving  their  opinion  either  in  praise  or  blame  of 
the  measures  which  the  government  may  have  adopted. 

How  far  such  proceedings  may  be  advisable  is  a  question 
with  which  we  have  nothing  to  do,  as  it  does  not  bear  upon 
the  maintenance  of  the  monarchical  principle. 

The  sphere  of  the  chambers,  then,  as  a  body,  sharing  the 
power  of  ultimate  decision  with  the  prince,  is  confined  to 
the  internal  affairs  of  legislation  and  taxation.  In  these  there 
is  no  third  party  concerned  :  but  in  the  dealings  between  the 
two  the  monarchical  principle  is  sustained  by  the  veto,  which 
must  be  allowed  unconditionally  to  the  prince.  In  compli- 
ance with  the  favourite  notion  of  the  sovereignty  of  the 
people,  frequent  attempts  have  of  late  been  made  to  restrict 
the  veto,  by  determining  that  the  prince  may  refuse  his  ap- 
proval once,  or  even  twice,  but  that  after  this  the  law  shall 
be  valid  without  it. 

It  is  evident  that  this  arrangement  is  wholly  incompati- 
ble with  the  principle  of  monarchy,  and,  moreover,  absurd 
in  itself  It  is  incompatible  with  monarchy,  because  it 
assumes  that  a  law  may  pass  without  the  will  of  the  sove- 
reign. It  is  absurd,  because  there  can  be  no  reason  why 
the  monarchical  principle  should  not  rather  be  done  away 
with  at  once,  than  after  the  lapse  of  two  or  three  years. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  use  of  the  veto  is  an  evil  in 
each  case  to  which  it  is  applied,  because  it  presumes  that 
there  is  a  diflference  between  the  prince  and  the  chambers  : 
but  even  though  it  should  become,  as  in  England,  a  mere 
form,  it  is  yet  important  that  the  prince  should  possess  the 
right,  since  circumstances  may  render  it  valuable. 

It  remains  that  we  should  consider  the  relations  in  which 

the  prince  stands  to  the  chambers  with  respect  to  the  in- 

fluence  which  he  should  exercise  over  them.    The  monarch- 


SbS 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


ical  principle  requires  that  the  prince  should  have  the  right 
of  introducing  measures  into  the  chambers  ;  he  is  to  possess, 
in  technical  language,  the  right  of  the  initiative.  But  the 
question  which  arises  is,  whether  this  right  is  to  be  confined 
to  him  alone,  whether  he  is  to  be  the  only  source  of  legisla- 
tion, or  whether  the  members  of  the  chambers  are  to  be 
allowed  a  share  in  it  ? 

Under  the  stipulation  that  the  prince  is  to  retain  the 
power  of  approval  or  rejection,  it  does  not  appear  necessary 
that  the  initiative  should  be  wholly  reserved  to  him ;  while 
to  refuse  it  to  the  chambers  would  entail  the  contradiction 
of  denying  the  representatives  of  the  people  all  opportunity 
of  expressing  its  wants.  This  object,  however,  may  be 
obtained  by  requiring  that  the  chambers  should  be  obliged 
to  sue  the  government  under  certain  forms,  for  permission 
to  introduce  a  measure,  so  that  the  latter  only  would  retain 
the  formal  right.  And  this  institution  would  possess  the 
further  advantage  of  throwing  great  obstacles  in  the  way,  if 
not  of  wholly  preventing,  all  dissensions  between  the  prince 
and  the  chambers.  It  is  not,  however,  the  object  of  this  in- 
quiry to  ascertain  what  may  best  suit  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  different  nations. 

If  the  monarchical  principle  requires  that  the  prince 
should  have  the  power  of  introducing  measures  into  the 
chambers,  it  follows  of  course  that  he  must  also  possess  the 
means  of  convincing  the  chambers  of  the  expediency  and 
necessity  of  his  proposals,  and  of  inducing  the  adoption  of 
them.  He  must,  therefore,  possess  an  influence  in  the 
chambers,  since  motions  must  be  made  in  favour  of  these 
measures,  and  they  must  be  supported  in  debate.  This 
cannot  be  better  done  than  by  the  ministers  who  are  the 
natural  organ  of  the  prince.  The  ministers,  therefore,  must 
have  seats  and  voices  in  the  chambers,  whether  as  ministers 
or  as  elected  members  does  not  matter.  Nothing  is  more 
mistaken  than  the  restriction  of  the  ministers  in  the  cham- 
bers, or  their  exclusion  from  them,  in  order,  as  it  is  said,  to 
prevent  the  government  influence  from  becoming  too  great. 
It  is  only  from  a  false  belief  that  the  government  and  the 
chambers  are  in  natural  hostility  to  each  other,  that  such 
regulations  could  proceed  :  but  if  the  prince  and  the  cham- 
bers are  to  communicate  with  each  other,  through  whom  can 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


359 


it  be  better  effected  than  the  ministers  who  originate  the 
proposals,  and  must,  therefore,  best  understand  their  in- 
tention ? 

We  need  hardly  mention  that  the  monarchical  principle 
requires  that  the  prince  should  have  the  power  which  every 
private  person  has,  of  choosing  his  own  servants  and  ad- 
visers, and  of  dismissing  them  at  will.  It  appears,  in  fact, 
almost  incredible  that  this  right  should  ever  have  been  dis- 
puted. Chambers  which  claim  the  dictation  of  the  servants 
and  counsellors  of  a  prince,  not  only  invade  the  province  of 
government,  but  by  that  act  declare  their  prince  for  ever  in- 
capable, and  range  themselves  in  a  faction,  whose  object  is 
to  silence  every  voice  but  their  own. 

We  have  thus,  according  to  our  plan,  traced  out  the  rela- 
tions which  should  exist  between  princes  and  their  chambers, 
if  the  monarchical  principle  is  to  be  maintained.  The  fur- 
ther development  of  them  we  leave  to  politicians.  But  if 
any  one  should  think  that  too  much  is  here  allowed  to  the 
sovereign,  I  would  refer  him  to  Great  Britain,^  as  a  proof 
that  all  these  conditions  may  be  fulfilled,  and  the  rights  of 
the  prince  maintained,  without  infringing  the  liberties  of  the 
nation.^  This  will  be  an  answer,  at  least  to  those  who  desire  a 
true  monarchy  and  not  a  republic.  In  that  state  a  fortunate 
concurrence  of  circumstances  has  for  ages  been  at  work  in 
forming  the  constitution.  It  is  not,  therefore,  in  the  situation 
of  the  continental  states,  which  have  to  provide  themselves 
with  a  constitution  for  the  first  time,  and  the  question  can- 

*  [How  far  recent  events  may  have  changed  the  constitution  of  Great  Bri- 
tain, and  made  it  inconsistent  with  the  conditions  prescribed  by  Professor 
Heeren,  the  reader  may  himself  determine.  One  point  appears  to  be  gener- 
ally admitted,  if  not  so  generally  lamented,  viz.  that  by  the  destruction  of  the 
government  boroughs,  the  crown  must  henceforth  be  limited  in  its  choice  of 
ministers  to  such  men  as  the  constituent  bodies  of  the  country  may,  for  the 
moment,  be  willing  to  return  to  parUament.  And  yet  perfect  freedom  in  this 
respect  is,  by  Professor  Heeren,  considered  so  essential  to  the  idea  of  mon- 
archy, as  scarcely  to  call  for  remark.     See  above.    Tr.] 

^  The  author  trusts  that  he  will  not,  on  this  account,  be  supposed  to  wish 
for  the  introduction  of  the  entire  British  constitution  into  the  states  of  the 
continent.  He  is  well  aware  of  the  impossibihty  of  this.  And  even  if  it  were 
possible,  he  is  by  no  means  inclined  to  think  it  desirable.  A  diversity  and 
multiplicity  of  constitutions  is  the  inseparable  condition  of  our  poUtical,  and 
with  it  of  our  general,  improvement.  But  this  should  not  prevent  us  from  de- 
riving some  practical  hints  from  so  great  and  prominent  an  exam^e ;  due 
regard  being  of  course  had  to  the  situation  in  which  we  are  placed.  To  deny 
that  any  thing  from  thence  is  applicable  here,  would  be  as  absurd  as  to  assert 
that  every  thing  is  so. 


360 


ON  THE  RISE,  PROGRESS,  ETC. 


not  be  there  asked  which  has  been  asked  here,  viz.  From 
whom  is  this  constitution  to  come?  The  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion itself  is  simple.  From  the  sovereign  power.  In  mon- 
archies, therefore,  from  the  princes.  In  republics,  from  the 
people  or  their  representatives.  The  only  difficulty  which 
attends  it  has  arisen  from  an  attempt  to  apply  the  notions 
which  the  writers  above-named  entertained  on  the  origin  of 
states,  to  the  present  time.  An  application  of  which  they 
will  by  no  means  admit.  All  those  writers  suppose  a  ''state 
of  nature,"  out  of  which  men  advanced  into  civil  society ; 
but  in  none  of  the  countries  which  desire  the  establishment 
of  a  constitution,  does  such  a  state  exist.  In  every  one  of 
them  there  is  an  existent  sovereign :  from  whom  but  him 
ought  these  new  institutions  to  proceed  ?  It  is  only  by  as- 
suming, with  Rousseau,  that  even  in  monarchies  there  is  a 
dormant  sovereignty  of  the  people,  which  may  upon  any 
occasion  be  awakened  and  become  active,  that  this  right 
can  be  denied. 

But  although,  according  to  our  views,  both  expediency 
and  justice  require  that  these  new  institutions  should  pro- 
ceed from  the  existing  authority,  yet  this  by  no  means  im- 
plies that  the  prince  may  not  be  assisted  in  planning  them 
by  a  body  of  advisers,  even  though  that  body  should  be 
popularly  constituted.  This  much,  however,  I  believe  to  be 
necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  the  monarchical  principle, 
viz.  that  such  a  body  should  have  the  power  of  advising,  and 
that  only. 

Experience  of  recent  date  has  shown  the  consequences  of 
greater  concessions ;  the  universal  acceptance  of  a  constitu- 
tion by  the  voice  of  the  people  can  never  be  any  thing  but 
an  empty  form,  and  the  regular  establishment  of  it  by  the 
states  niay  be  easily  shown  to  bring  greater  dangers  than  a 
concession  of  it  by  the  sovereign. 

Were  it  possible,  within  the  German  confederation  alone, 
to  come  to  an  agreement  on  the  boundary  line  which  should 
be  drawn,  under  the  new  constitutions,  between  the  rights  of 
the  prince  and  of  the  states,  were  the  points  which  we  have 
stipulated  for  above  assumed  as  matters  of  course,  the  rest 
would  consist  chiefly  of  local  modifications,  which  could 
easily  be  determined  by  common  consent.^ 

'  [At  the  congress  of  Vienna  it  was  provided  that  representative  constitu- 


OF  POLITICAL  THEORIES. 


361 


The  voice  of  those  who  demand  constitutional  govern- 
ments is  become  too  loud  to  be  silenced  without  danger. 
But  at  the  same  time  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  expectations 
are  entertained  which  no  change  in  the  forms  of  the  states 
themselves  can  satisfy. 

Those  who  have  speculated  upon  the  forms  of  constitu- 
tional government,  and  set  up  new  maxims  of  their  own, 
ought  at  the  same  time  to  have  learnt  to  estimate  those 
forms  at  their  true  value.  They  should  have  shown  what 
they  admit  of  being,  and  of  producing.  But  in  rejecting 
this  course,  in  giving  themselves  up  without  reserve  to  their 
metaphysical  speculations,  they  have  originated  and  con- 
stantly kept  up  the  error,  that  every  thing  depends  upon 
these  forms ;  and  that  from  them,  and  not  from  the  spirit  of 
the  government  and  of  the  administration,  the  welfare  or 
ruin  of  states  must  proceed.  And  thus  it  has  become  more 
and  more  customary  to  consider  the  state  as  a  machine ; 
and  whilst  men  speak  of  the  machine  of  state,  they  have 
fallen  into  the  dangerous  mistake  of  supposing  that  this 
machine  may,  like  any  other,  be  taken  to  pieces  and  put 
together  again  at  will. 

They  forget  that  not  only  mechanical  but  moral  powers 
are  at  work  in  it !  What  are  state  forms  themselves  beyond 
any  other  empty  forms?  What  more  are  they — if  I  may  be 

tions  should  be  adopted  by  the  federate  states  of  Germany.  But  the  article 
(the  13th  of  the  Act  of  Confederation)  was  so  vaguely  worded  as  to  admit  of 
almost  any  latitude  of  meaning  ;  and  accordingly  different  expositions  of  it 
were  made  and  supported  by  different  princes ;  many  of  which,  as  may  be 
believed,  tended  to  the  continuance  of  their  own  authority.  See  Russel's 
Germany,  i.  106.  The  list,  however,  of  those  states  whose  rulers  have  either 
adopted  or  had  thrust  upon  them  the  liberal  meaning  of  the  article,  is  now 
pretty  large,  and  embraces  Bavaria,  Wirtemberg,  Hanover,  Baden,  the  Grand 
Duchy  of  Hesse,  Brunswick,  Nassau,  Mecklenburg,  Saxe  Weimar,  etc.  Of 
these,  Saxe  Weimar  was  the  first  to  receive  the  boon,  although  from  RusseFs 
amusing  description  its  value  does  not  appear  to  have  been  very  fully  appre- 
ciated by  the  people. 

All  these  constitutions,  (to  quote  the  words  of  Heeren  himself,  in  the  new 
edition  of  his  Manual,)  "  Notwithstanding  many  modifications,  in  respect 
both  of  the  organization  and  the  greater  or  less  publicity  of  their  transactions, 
have  hitherto  coincided  in  the  following  points  :  1st,  The  monarchical  prin- 
ciple has  every  where  been  upheld,  in  the  mode  of  conferring  constitutions 
by  the  rulers,  and  by  a  just  determination  of  their  rights  in  relation  to  the 
states.  2ndly,  The  assembly  of  the  states  consists  of  two  chambers.  3rdly, 
To  these  is  allotted  their  proper  part  in  the  legislation,  especially  with  regard 
to  taxation." 

The  i3th  article,  therefore,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  wholly  inopera-  * 
tive ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  act  which  conteiins  it,  also  contains 
provisions  for  the  Diet  of  Frankfort.     Tr.] 


S62 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


36S 


allowed  a  simile,  not  perhaps  sufficiently  exalted,  but  yet 
most  applicable — than  the  track  in  which  the  chariot  wheels 
are  to  run  ?  It  certainly  is  not  a  matter  of  indifference  how 
this  track  is  formed,  for  if  it  be  even  and  easy,  the  motion 
will  be  so  also — if  it  be  uneven  and  rough,  the  checks  will 
be  more  frequent,  and  some  improvements  will  be  required. 
If  it  be  wholly  useless,  it  must  be  given  up ;  but  be  it  ever 
so  good,  are  we  thereby  assured  that  the  chariot  will  con- 
tinue in  the  track  ?  Will  the  track  alone  be  sufficient  to  re- 
strain it  ?  This  depends  rather  upon  the  steeds  who  draw, 
and  the  charioteer  who  guides. 

But  to  drop  all  metaphor — no  forms  will  benefit  a  state, 
unless  the  government  and  people  be  moral  and  enlightened. 
And  as  to  devising  any  which  shall  contain  the  warrant  of 
its  own  stability,  this  would  be  even  more  absurd  than  to 
endeavour  the  discovery  of  a  perpetuum  mobile  which 
should  maintain  its  own  impulse  for  ever. 


HISTORICAL     DEVELOPMENT 


OF 


THE  RISE  AND  GROWTH 


OF   THE 


CONTINENTAL  INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 

The  political  system  of  Europe  is  greatly  and  beneficially 
modified  by  containing  within  it  an  insular  state,  which  by 
its  extent,  and  the  use  to  which  it  applies  its  domestic 
resources,  maintains  its  rank  among  the  leading  powers. 
However  great  the  resemblance  which  may  exist  amongst 
the  cultivated  nations  of  Europe  in  points  of  civilization, 
religion,  and  language,  the  insular  character  of  such  a  state 
necessarily  gives  rise  to  certain  peculiarities,  which  cannot 
be  effaced.  The  barriers  which  nature  has  interposed  be- 
•  tween  it  and  the  rest  of  the  world,  almost  certainly  produce 
a  feeling  of  independence  among  its  inhabitants,  which  may 


not  only  be  in  the  highest  degree  usefiil  to  themselves,  but 
may  also  serve  as  an  example  to  others ;  and  that  in  our 
quarter  of  the  world  it  has  done  so,  is  sufficiently  proved  by 
the  history  of  modern  Europe.  Moreover,  the  existence  of 
such  a  power  gives  greater  security  to  the  political  system 
to  which  it  belongs,  against  the  occurrence  of  a  revolution, 
which  would  at  one  blow  annihilate  the  whole  :  since  the 
situation  of  such  a  state  will  either  altogether  exempt  it,  or 
at  least  enable  it  more  easily  to  escape  the  shock.  But'the 
peculiar  importance  of  such  a  state  to  the  whole  system, 
consists  in  the  necessity  which  its  own  maintenance  imposes,' 
of  becoming  a  naval  power ;  and  thus  rendering  it  impos- 
sible that  land  forces  alone  should  decide  the  supremacy.  In 
every  system  of  states,  the  pre-eminence  of  one  over  the 
rest  must  eventually  ensue,  (especially  when  there  is  a  con- 
siderable difference  of  power  among  the  members,)  if  the 
preponderance  depend  upon  land  forces  alone.  Even  the 
expedient  of  the  balance  of  power,  however  carefully 
planned,  will  prove  but  a  weak  security  against  the  occur- 
rence of  some  favourable  opportunity  by  which  the  state 
whose  resources,  or  the  talent  of  its  leaders,  or  both,  have 
rendered  it  the  strongest,  may  be  enabled  to  take  that  power 
into  its  own  hands  which  in  the  common  course  of  affairs 
will  at  some  time  or  other  lead  to  oppression  and  tyranny, 
although  it  may  not  at  first  assume  so  decisive  a  character! 
The  rise,  therefore,  of  one  or  more  naval  powers,  by  pro- 
viding that  in  the  political  balance  no  single  interest  shall 
have  the  preponderance,  is  of  itself  most  beneficial  to  the 
whole ;  and  the  more  so,  because  from  the  very  nature  of 
such  a  power  it  cannot  itself  become  dangerous  to  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  rest.  But  to  the  reflecting  observer,  the 
existence  of  naval  powers  acquires  its  chief  interest  from  the 
consideration  that  they  can  only  result  from  an  advanced 
state  of  civilization.  Barbarians,  it  is  true,  will  fit  out  ships 
tor  piracy ;  or  if  they  are  sufficiently  powerful,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  conveying  their  armies  into  foreign  countries  and 
subduing  them  ;  but  a  naval  power,  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word,  arises  only  from  a  participation  in  the  commerce  of 
the  world,  and  has  for  its  proper  object  the  protection  of  its 
shipping  and  its  colonies  in  distant  seas.  This  presupposes, 
therefore,  that  both  shipping  and  colonies  are  already  in 
existence ;    and  as  they  cannot  exist  except  under  a  high 


364 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


State  of  civilization,  it  follows  that  without  such  there  can- 
not be  a  naval  power.  The  history  of  modern  Europe 
affords  an  indisputable  proof  of  this ;  for  it  demonstrates 
clearly  and  decidedly  that  the  advance  of  political  civiliza- 
tion, and  the  decrease  of  ambitious  dreams  and  plans  of 
universal  monarchy,  correspond  with  the  gradual  formation 
of  naval  powers,  and  the  growth  of  their  influence  upon  the 

political  balance. 

The  policy  of  a  naval  power  as  such,  must  necessarily 
have   some  peculiarities;    but  much   more  so,   when  this 

power   occupies,   like    England,  an  insular  position.     We 

should  undoubtedly  be  taking  a  very  partial  view,  were  we 
to  found  upon  this  peculiarity  in  its  geographical  situation 

a  system  of  politics,  the  rules  of  which  such  a  state  should 
be  supposed  invariably  to  follow ;  for  as  long  as  it  stands  in 
various  relations  to  other  states— as  long  as  their  fortunes 
are  an  object  of  interest  to  it,  and  more  especially  as  long 
as  it  is  a  member  of  a  political  system,  it  will  be  compelled, 
according  to  the  variation  in  these  circumstances,  to  vary 
its  own  maxims  of  policy.     But  the  relations  in  which  an 
insular  state  stands  to  those  of  the  continent,  may  neverthe- 
less be  reduced  to  certain  general  classes,  which  have  refer- 
ence to  as  many  distinct  interests ;  and  this  arrangement 
seems  here  to  be  the  more  important,  since  in  an  historical 
development  of  the  British  continental  interests,  each  of 
these  classes  comes,  at  certain  periods,  under  consideration. 
We  may  distinguish  four  distinct  interests  by  which,  not- 
withstanding its  geographical  separation,  an  insular  state 
may  become  politically  bound,  as  it  were,  to  the  continent. 
1st,  The  interest  of  independence  and  security.    2nd,  The 
interest  of  trade   and   commerce.     3rd,    The  interest  of 
aggrandizement,  by  conquest  on  the  continent.    4th,  The 
personal  and  family  interest  of  the  rulers. 

With  regard  to  the  two  last  of  these  classes,  I  have  no- 
thing general  to  say  ;  for  they  are  in  themselves  sufficiently 
intelligible  ;  and  in  the  case  of  England,  the  former  does 
not  exist ;  while  as  to  the  latter,  no  one  doubts  that  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  family  with  the  national 
interest,  is  the  only  rule  by  which  its  value  can  be  deter- 

^  mined. '  But  the  two  first  classes  require  a  more  minute 
examination,  not  only  separately,  but  also  in  their  mutual 
relation  to  each  other. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


365 


It  is  most  ungrounded  to  suppose  that  because  an  insular 
state  is  supported  by  a  navy,  it  is  therefore  to  take  no  share 
in  the  political  transactions  of  other  states.  It  is  certainly 
by  its  navy  rendered  more  secure,  but  by  no  means  per- 
fectly so.  Even  with  numerous  fleets  it  is  not  always  pos- 
sible to  cover  widely-extended  coasts ;  and  when  it  is  besides 
necessary  for  such  a  power  to  defend  many  and  distant  pos- 
sessions, on  the  preservation  of  which  its  existence,  or  at 
least  its  wealth,  depends,  the  difficulty  is  greatly  increased. 
It  is  true,  an  insular  power  has  not  much  to  fear  from  the 
growth  of  one  which  is  powerful  only  by  land ;  but  on  the 
other  hand,  the  danger  is  doubly  increased  when  this  power 
is  also  a  naval  power,  and  as  such  copes  with  it.  In  this 
relation  stood  France  and  England  to  each  other.  The 
proximity  of  their  situations,  the  contiguity  of  their  foreign 
possessions,  the  national  hatred  which  for  centuries  had  re- 
ceived constant  nourishment,  necessarily  produced  a  rivalry 
such  as  does  not  and  could  not  exist  elsewhere. 

But  when  such  an  insular  power  is  at  the  same  time  a 
commercial  state,  there  becomes  connected  with  the  political 
interest  a  commercial  one,  which  will  not  permit  conti- 
nental relations  to  be  neglected.  This  commercial  interest 
can  have  no  other  object  than  keeping  open,  and  as  much 
as  possible  enlarging,  the  market  for  the  disposal  of  its  mer- 
chandise ;  and  from  this  necessarily  follows  a  closer  alliance 
with  those  nations  who  will  encourage  or  promote  such  dis- 
posal. Prudence  forbids  indifference  to  the  fortunes  of  these 
allies ;  and  thus  arises  of  itself  the  connexion  between  po- 
litical and  commercial  interests.  But  notwithstanding  the 
truth  of  this,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  this  connexion  has  in 
modern  politics  been  frequently  considered  as  more  binding 
than  it  really  is.  It  is  sufficiently  proved  by  experience, 
that  the  progress  of  commerce  depends  immediately  on  the 
wants  of  the  buyer  and  the  interest  of  the  seller.  Political 
relations  may  impede  or  promote,  but  they  can  neither  cre- 
ate or  destroy  it.  In  countries  where  the  means  of  com- 
munication are,  as  in  Europe,  so  various  and  so  easy,  com- 
merce will  find  a  channel  even  in  the  hottest  wars,  and 
under  the  severest  restrictions.  Where  demand  exists  on 
one  side,  and  the  love  of  gain  on  the  other,  they  easily  over- 
come or  evade  the  impediments  thrown  in  their  way  by  go- 


see 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


vernments.  The  experience  of  modern  times  has  thrown 
much  light  upon  the  connexion  of  political  and  mercantile 
interests ;  it  has  shown,  that  if  they  cannot  be  wholly  separ- 
ated, neither  are  they  so  closely  related  as  they  were  held  to 
be  in  times  when  it  was  thought  that  the  course  which  com- 
merce should  take,  might  be  prescribed  by  mercantile  trea- 
ties, or  mercantile  interdictions. 

Independently  of  these  causes,  there  is  yet  another  ground 
which  renders  it  impossible  for  an  insular  power,  which  oc- 
cupies a  prominent  place  in  a  political  system,  to  be  indif- 
ferent to  the  proceedings  of  other  states ;  a  ground  which, 
in  the  eyes  of  a  practical  politician,  is  certainly  far  from  un- 
important— the  maintenance  of  its  station  and  dignity  as  a 
member  of  that  system.  In  a  political  body  like  that  of 
modern  Europe,  where  such  unwearied  activity  prevails, 
where  so  many  energies  are  constantly  at  work,  any  seclu- 
sion from  the  common  affairs,  even  when  of  no  immediate 
importance  to  it,  would,  to  a  powerful  and  leading  state,  be 
the  unavoidable  commencement  of  its  decline.  In  propor- 
tion as  such  a  state  contracts  its  sphere,  that  of  its  rival  must 
necessarily  expand ;  while  the  one  loses,  the  other  gains ; 
and  how  desirable  soever  the  maintenance  of  peace  may  be, 
the  remark  is  not  without  its  value,  that  power  increases  only 
through  a  struggle,  and  that  a  long  peace  purchased  by  such 
politics  as  these,  often  proves  a  very  dangerous  blessing. 

The  history  of  Europe  has  furnished  many  useful  examples 
in  this  respect ;  but  none  more  so  than  that  of  the  United 
Netherlands.  Its  active  interference  in  the  politics  of  Europe 
cost  this  state  many  heavy  sacrifices,  and  even  reduced  it  to 
the  brink  of  destruction.  After  the  peace  of  Utrecht,  it  em- 
braced the  opposite  principle,  and  has  maintained  it  as 
steadily  as  it  has  been  able.  But  from  that  period  began 
its  decline,  and  the  internal  causes  of  its  fall  worked  thence- 
forth with  a  certainty  proportionate  to  their  undisturbed  de- 
velopment. An  absolute  monarchy,  which  chiefly  depends 
upon  the  genius  of  the  ruler,  is  much  more  calculated  to 
outlast  a  long  period  of  peace ;  although  even  here  symptoms 
of  decline  are  usually  visible.  But  in  a  state  with  a  repub- 
lican constitution,  whether  combined  with  monarchy  or  not, 
other  causes  step  in,  which,  under  such  circumstances,  must 
almost  necessarily  prove  detrimental.     The  times  of  peace 


m- 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


367 


are  here  generally  the  times  of  factions ;  which,  although 
they  may  not  directly  bring  on  a  civil  war,  do  not  the  less 
o-naw  at  the  very  heart  of  the  state.  An  active  participation 
in  foreign  affairs,  on  the  other  hand,  is  well  calculated  to 
avert  the  internal  fermentation  ;  it  affords  a  subject  of  com- 
mon interest  to  all ;  whereas  men's  political  opinions  in- 
variably become  divided  when  they  turn  only  upon  their 
domestic  relations. 

This,  however,  will  not,  it  is  hoped,  be  understood  as  a 
defence  of  rash  and  general  interference  in  foreign  politics 
and  wars.  Between  such  thoughtless  interference  and  in- 
dolent apathy,  there  is  a  medium  which  is  fixed  by  the  inter- 
est and  the  strength  of  the  power  concerned ;  and  it  is  of 
the  observance  of  this  medium  that  we  are  now  speaking. 
In  order  not  to  exceed  it,  the  statesman  must  have  not  only 
clear  and  fixed  notions  respecting  the  real  interests,  but  also 
respecting  the  extent  of  influence  which  the  state  possesses, 
of  which  he  guides  the  helm  ;  and  the  latter  of  these  seems 
no  less  diflScult  to  attain  to  than  the  former ;  for  the  delu- 
sions of  pride  and  self-conceit  are  to  the  full  as  dangerous 
as  those  of  ambition  and  self-interest. 

These  considerations  may  serve  as  an  introduction  to  the 
following  inquiry,  which  has  for  its  aim,  an  historical  deve- 
lopment of  the  continental  interests  of  Great  Britain,  during 
the  last  three  centuries.  The  task  which  I  propose  to  my- 
self, is  to  give,  in  chronological  arrangement,  a  review  of 
the  links  by  which  the  political  and  mercantile  interests  of 
England  were  bound  up  with  those  of  the  continent ;  and 
to  examine  how  they  became  united,  and  how  loosened. 
Unconnected  and  transient  relations,  such  as  sometimes  arose 
in  the  course  of  great  wars,  do  not  come  under  our  con- 
sideration ;  those  only  which  were  lasting  deserve  our  at- 
tention. The  history  of  the  continental  interests  of  Britain 
can  be  clearly  viewed  only,  by  considering  it  according  to 
the  periods  in  which  it  was  subject  to  its  principal  changes. 
We  must  therefore  take  the  following : — 1.  The  period  from 
Henry  VII.  to  EHzabeth.  2.  That  of  Elizabeth.  3.  That 
of  the  Stewarts,  down  to  William  III.  4.  That  of  William 
III.  and  Anne.  5.  That  of  the  house  of  Hanover,  down  to 
the  commencement  of  the  French  Revolution.  6.  The  pe- 
riod from  this,  down  to  the  restoration  of  the  political  sys- 
tem of  Europe,  which  the  revolution  had  destroyed. 


368 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


369 


FIRST  PERIOD. 
FROM  HENRY  VII.  TO  ELIZABETH,  1484—1558. 

Even  during  the  middle  ages,  England  had  taken  a  veiy 
active  part  in  the  affairs  of  the  continent,  by  her  wars  with 
France,  and  her  endeavours  to  conquer  that  kingdom.     The 
marriage  of  Isabella,  daughter  of  Philip  the  Handsome,  with 
Edward  II., — a  marriage  in  so  many  respects  unfortunate, — 
had  laid  the  foundation  of  these  contests,  since  Edward  III., 
the  offspring  of  this  union,  grounded  his  claims  to  the  French 
throne,  in  opposition  to  those  of  the  house  of  Valois,  upon 
his  maternal  descent.     A  series  of  wars  ensued,  which  for  a 
long  time  were  as  fortunate  for  England,  as  their  conse- 
quences in  the  middle  of  the  15th  century  were  fatal.     The 
political  interest  which  connected  England  with  the  conti- 
nent, was  therefore  at  this  period  only  one  of  conquest.     In 
times  when  the  principles  by  which  politics  were  directed 
were  as  yet  coarse  and  unrefined,  and  when  the  love  of  con- 
quest was  the  sole  spring  of  action,  such  plans  were  possible, 
although  even  then  there  were  evident  indications,  that  a 
lasting  subjection  of  France  to  England  was  nothing  but  a 
dream.     Since  the  year  1450,  the  English  had  been  ex- 
cluded from  France,  but  the  bare  title  of  king  of  France  was 
not  all  which  England  retained.     Political  ideas,  so  deeply 
rooted  as  these  were,  are  not  easily  got  rid  of;  and  the  re- 
sult shows,  that  they  were  active  in  England  throughout  the 
whole  of  this  period,  since  every  opportunity  was  eagerly 
seized,  which  held  out  the  least  chance  of  carrying  them  into 
execution.     Brittany  was  at  that  time  under  the  rule  of  its 
own  dukes,  in  whom,  as  they  were  almost  constantly  em- 
broiled with  the  kings  of  France,  England  found  allies  within 
France  itself;  and  had  not  this  position  of  affairs  been  al- 
tered, by  the  extinction  of  the  male  line  (1488)  and  the 
subsequent  union  of  the  heiress  Anna  with  Charles  VIII., 
the  consequences  of  it  would  probably  have  been  long  felt. 
Besides,  whilst  Calais  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  English, 
it  was  imagined  that  they  possessed  as  it  were  the  gate  of 
France,  by  which  they  might  enter  as  often  as  they  thought  fit. 
But  even  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  England  obtained 
by  family  connexion  an  interest  in  the  continent.     Arthur, 
son  of  Henry  VII.,  married  Catharine,  daughter  of  Ferdi- 


nand the  Catholic ;  and  upon  his  death,  while  still  a  youth, 
she  became  the  wife  of  his  brother,  afterwards  Henry  VIII. 

During  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  these  relations  could 
not  have  any  important  consequences,  because  he  purposely 
avoided,  as  much  as  possible,  all  interference  in  foreign 
transactions,  in  order  to  secure  his  own  throne.  Once  only 
he  crossed  over  to  Calais  with  an  army,  to  please  Maximi- 
lian I.,  when  he  was  deprived  of  his  betrothed  bride,  Anna, 
the  heiress  of  Brittany,  by  Charles  VIII.,  who  thus  laid 
the  foundation  for  this  important  acquisition ;  but  although 
the  English  interest  was,  by  this  circumstance,  exposed  to 
imminent  danger,  it  was  more  a  financial  than  a  military 
expedition.  For  600,000  crowns  Charles  VIII.  purchased 
the  treaty  of  Estaples  (1492) ;  in  a  few  weeks  Henry  re- 
turned home,  and  the  alliance  between  England  and  Brit- 
tany was  for  ever  dissolved. 

But  during  the  reign  of  his  son  and  successor,  Henry 
VIII.,  (1509 — 1547,)  the  consequences  became,  on  this  ac- 
count, the  more  striking.  When  he  ascended  the  throne, 
Italy  had,  by  the  league  of  Cambray,  become  the  centre  of 
European  politics.  England,  from  her  position  and  other 
circumstances,  could  derive  no  benefit  whatever  from  taking 
a  share  in  the  proceedings  in  Italy  ;  nay,  her  neutrality  must 
have  given  her  the  advantage  over  France,  while  this  state 
was  fruitlessly  expending  its  strength  in  attempts  at  con- 
quests. But  the  family  connexion  with  Spain  was  now  em- 
ployed by  his  father-in-law,  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  for  the 
purpose  of  involving  Henry  in  these  transactions. 

When  the  league  of  Cambray  fell  to  pieces,  and  out  of  it 
arose  the  holy  league  against  France,  Ferdinand  joined  him- 
self to  it,  in  order  to  find  an  opportunity  of  seizing  Navarre. 
He  fully  estimated  the  advantages  which  would  probably 
result  to  him  from  the  interference  of  Henry,  whom  he  flat- 
tered with  the  hope  of  being  able  to  enforce  his  old  claims 
to  Guienne.  He  obtained  his  object ;  Henry  VIII.  quar- 
relled with  France,  and  when  he  had  done  so,  his  father-in- 
law  and  his  other  allies  forsook  him,  and  after  a  fruitless 
invasion  of  Picardy,  he  put  an  end  to  this  war,  which  had 
exhausted  the  crown  treasures  left  him  by  his  father,  by  a 
peace  (1514)  intended  to  be  confirmed  by  the  marriage  of 
his  sister  to  Lewis  XII. 


2   B 


370 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


An  interest  so  entirely  misunderstood  as  this  had  been, 
and  only  raised  by  the  craftiness  of  a  false  friend,  could  not 
be  otherwise  than  transient.  But  the  times  soon  changed ; 
and  when  Lewis  XII.  and  Ferdinand  (1516)  left  the  stage, 
at  nearly  the  same  time,  and  Francis  I.  and  Charles  V.  step- 
ped into  their  places,  new  relations  arose,  which  became,  or 
at  least  seemed  to  become,  much  more  important  to  the  con- 
tinental interests  of  Great  Britain.  The  new  rivalry  between 
the  French  and  Austrian-Spanish  houses,  first  laid  the  found- 
ation of  the  system  of  a  balance  of  power,  and  four  bloody 
wars  between  Charles  and  Francis  were  the  result. 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  was  very  natural  that  the 
idea  should  arise  in  England,  that  she  was  able  to  turn  the 
scale  in  these  wars.  And  what  can  we  conceive  so  well 
calculated  to  flatter  the  vanity  of  Henry  VIII.,  as  to  con- 
sider himself  the  umpire  of  Europe  ?  And  indeed  he  seemed 
to  have  many  means  in  his  power  for  accomplishing  this 
object.  If  he  embraced  the  side  of  Charles,  he  could  easily 
injure  France,  since  the  possession  of  Calais  made  it  easy  for 
him  to  land  troops  on  the  French  coast ;  and  if  he  joined 
the  party  of  Francis,  he  could,  in  the  same  manner,  make 
an  incursion  into  the  Flemish  possessions  of  Charles  V.  We 
cannot,  therefore,  be  surprised,  that  he  really  assumed  this 
character  ;  but  he  acted  it  so  badly,  that  it  led  to  no  results ; 
and  by  casting  a  single  glance  into  history,  we  shall  easily 
discover  why  it  did  not.  When  the  contest  between  Fran- 
cis I.  and  Charles  V.  first  began,  in  the  year  1521,  and 
both  monarchs  strove  for  the  friendship  of  Henry,  it  was  for 
a  time  uncertain  which  side  he  would  join,  until  at  length 
Charles  succeeded  in  winning  over  Cardinal  W^olsey,  by 
promises  and  flattery.  Through  him  the  king  was  also 
gained.  But  still  the  war  in  Picardy  was  only  a  subordinate 
transaction,  and  its  results  could  be  of  no  great  importance. 
The  melancholy  fate  of  Francis  I.  at  Pavia  (1525)  brought 
Henry  to  his  senses.  He  now  began  to  fear  that  his  ally 
might  become  too  strong;  he  therefore  forsook  him,  and 
after  the  peace  of  Madrid,  by  which  Francis  bought  his  free- 
dom at  the  expense  of  conditions  which  he  had  no  intention 
of  fulfilHng,  (1527,)  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  unite  himself 
with  his  former  enemy.  But  at  the  commencement  of  the 
second  war,  he  voluntarily  disabled  himself;  since  he  w^as 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


371 


induced,  by  commercial  considerations,  to  concede  to  the 
emperor  the  neutrality  of  the  Netherlands,  the  only  point  in 
which  he  was  capable  of  doing  him  any  injury.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  he  gave  his  ally  no  assistance,  and  as  his 
attention  was  engaged  during  the  war,  by  religious  matters, 
and  the  question  of  his  own  marriage,  he  appeared  wholly 
to  have  forgotten  the  important  part  which  he  was  to  play, 
and  took  no  share  in  the  third  war  between  those  two 
monarchs,  which  was  concluded  by  the  ten  years'  armistice 
of  Nice  (1538).  But  when  the  fourth  broke  out,  (1541,)  he 
formed  a  close  alliance  with  Charles,  not  because  he  then 
feared  the  power  of  France,  but  because  he  wished  to  gratify 
his  own  capricious  humours.  The  compact  which  he  con- 
cluded with  Charles  V.,  is  a  striking  example  of  the  politics 
of  that  time  ;  the  conditions  show  that  there  was  no  intention 
they  should  be  observed,  because  their  observance  was  im- 
possible. Henry  VIII.  desired  nothing  less  than  the  French 
crown,  and,  in  order  to  conquer  the  whole  of  France,  he 
went  to  Calais  with  an  insignificant  force,  while  Charles  in- 
vaded Champagne.  But  the  allies  fell  out  amongst  them- 
selves; Charles  concluded  a  separate  treaty  at  Cressy,  (1544,) 
and  left  his  ally  to  get  out  of  his  difficulties  as  he  best  could ; 
Henry  was  content  with  the  promise  of  an  annual  payment, 
which,  on  the  other  side,  there  was  no  intention  of  dis- 
charging, although  Boulogne,^  which  he  had  taken,  was  left 
in  his  hands  as  a  pledge  for  eight  years. 

From  all  this  it  is  clear,  that  the  pretended  maintenance 
of  the  balance  between  the  two  great  powers  of  the  con- 
tinent, in  these  times,  existed  only  in  name.  A  monarch, 
who  was  ever  the  slave  of  his  inclination,  and  the  tool  of 
those  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  was  incapable  of  adher- 
ing to  a  firm  line  of  politics ;  and  this  remark  applies  with 
equal  truth  to  his  minister,  Cardinal  Wolsey,  who  was  not 
less  guided  by  his  passions  than  his  master.  It  might  have 
been  expected,  that  the  new  interest  created  under  Henry 
VIII.  by  the  Reformation,  might  have  caused  a  connexion 
between  England  and  the  continent;  but  the  conduct  of 
Henry  rendered  this  impossible,  notwithstanding  the  share 
which  he  took  in  these  transactions.   As  long  as  he  claimed 

'  This,  during  the  reign  of  his  son,  was  recovered  by  France,  on  the  pay- 
ment of  a  much  smaller  sum  than  had  been  originally  stipulated. 

2b2 


372 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


h 


/ 


the  supremacy,  and  only  exchanged  the  power  of  the  pope 
in  England  for  his  own,  without  tolerating  the  Protestant 
doctrine,  the  adherents  of  which  he  persecuted,  there  could 
be  no  union  between  him  and  the  Protestant  princes  of 
Germany ;  and  the  attempts  which  he  made  to  attain  this 
object  were  necessarily  fruitless. 

Under  the  government  of  his  son  and  successor,  Edward 
VI.,  the  political  connexion  with  the  continent  was  not  in 
any  way  strengthened ;  it  was,  on  the  contrary,  made  ap- 
parent, that  the  ties  by  which,  under  Henry  VIII.,  England 
had  been  united  to  the  continent,  had  arisen,  not  from  any 
national  interest,  but  from  the  caprices  of  that  king.  Al- 
though, during  this  reign,  the  Reformation  was  introduced 
into  England,  that  country  was  not  involved  in  the  great 
crisis,  by  which  the  condition  of  the  Protestants  of  Germany 
was  determined,  although  so  fair  an  opportunity  of  its  be- 
coming so  was  offered  by  the  alliance  of  Henry  II.  of  France 
and  Maurice,  against  Charles  V.  But  upon  the  premature 
death  of  Edward,  and  the  succession  of  his  sister  Mary, 
England  was  brought  into  a  new  connexion  with  the  con- 
tinent, and  one  which  might  have  had  the  most  fatal  conse- 
quences, by  the  union  of  Mary  and  Philip  II.  of  Spain 
(1554).  It  is  true,  the  parliament  took  all  possible  precau- 
tions, but  had  there  been  any  children  of  the  marriage, 
Philip's  unwearied  activity  might  easily  have  overcome  these 
difficulties.  Even  as  it  was,  the  political  relations  of  England 
were  affected  by  it.  When  Philip  II.,  soon  after  his  succes- 
sion, saw  himself  compelled  (1557)  to  a  war  with  France, 
he  contrived,  by  his  personal  influence  with  his  wife,  to  make 
her  a  party  to  it.  The  result  was  the  loss  of  Calais,  the  only 
remains  of  the  old  conquests  of  Britain  in  continental  France.^ 
Calais  was  taken  by  the  French  in  1558,  and  at  the  time 
was  considered  a  most  serious  loss ;  but  in  reality  it  was  a 
gain  to  England.  It  was  this  that  chiefly  tended  to  dispel 
the  old  visions  of  conquest  in  France,  which  had  so  often 
been  the  occasion  of  undertakings  against  that  country,  al- 
though the  impracticability  of  the  design  might  long  have 
been  discovered. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  clear  that,  although  Eng- 
land during  this  period  occasionally  interfered  in  the  affairs 

'  The  islands  of  Guernsey  and  Jersey  she  still  retains. 


■ 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


373 


of  the  continent,  the  British  continental  interests  were  not 
as  yet  become  national  interests ;  they  existed  only  in  the 
family  connexions  of  the  reigning  houses,  or  in  the  old 
claims  of  the  kings  of  England  upon  France :  that  is  to  say, 
in  an  idea  which  had  already  outlived  its  own  strength.  For 
her  independence,  England  had  then  little  to  fear  from  either 
France  or  Spain,  since  Italy  was  the  prize  for  which  these 
powers  were  contending ;  and  if  there  had  been  any  appre- 
hension that  they  might  hereafter  become  dangerous,  it 
would  have  been  most  natural  to  permit  them  to  wear  out 
their  strength  against  each  other.  It  remains  therefore  only 
to  inquire,  how  far  the  interests  of  England,  during  this 
period,  may  have  been  involved  in  those  of  the  continent  by 
its  commercial  transactions. 

As  England  was  then  wholly  without  colonies,  which 
might  give  her  the  produce  of  distant  parts  of  the  world  to 
convey  to  other  markets,  and  as  her  domestic  industry  was 
too  confined  to  produce  any  considerable  means  of  com- 
merce, it  is  easy  to  see  that  her  trading  interest  at  this  time 
could  not  enter  into  the  most  remote  comparison  with  that 
which  arose  in  the  subsequent  periods  of  her  history.  The 
great  commercial  revolution  for  which  the  ground  was  laid 
by  the  discovery  of  America  and  the  East  Indies,  in  the  be- 
ginning of  this  period, — the  only  one  which  furnishes  an 
epoch  in  the  general  history  of  trade, — was  not  entirely 
without  its  influence  upon  England ;  for  as  early  as  1497, 
John  Cabot  sailed  on  a  voyage  of  discovery  to  North  America, 
and  others  followed  him ;  but  those  discoveries,  although 
made  with  the  consent  were  without  the  support  of  the  go- 
vernment ;  and  during  this  period  led  to  no  advantageous 
results. 

But,  in  the  mean  time,  the  wool  which  England  produced, 
and  which  was  exported  partly  in  a  raw  and  partly  in  a 
manufactured  state,  was  of  so  much  importance  that  it  was 
not  entirely  without  influence  upon  her  continental  policy. 
From  the  twelfth  century,  the  breeding  of  sheep  (which  was 
afterwards  greatly  improved  by  the  introduction  of  the 
Spanish  breed,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.)  had  been  the 
principal  employment  of  the  English  farmer;  and  after  con- 
tinuing to  export  it  raw  for  a  considerable  period,  cloth 
manufactures  were  at  length  introduced.    The  nearest  mar- 


I. 


374 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


ket,  and  that  to  which  English  wool  was  first  carried,  was 
in  the  Netherlands,  the  manufacturers  of  which  depended 
for  their  prosperity  upon  the  trade ;  and  hence  arose  a  con- 
nexion which  existed  not  merely  in  the  caprice  of  the  sove- 
reign or  the  minister,  but  in  the  real  interests  of  the  nation. 
Even  in  this  period  it  had  some  political  consequences ;  for 
when  Henry  VIII.  declared  war  against  Charles  V.  in  1527, 
the  discontent  of  those  engaged  in  this  business,  compelled 
the  king  to  make  a  separate  treaty  for  the  neutrality  of  the 
Netherlands.  The  sequel  of  this  inquiry  will  show,  that  as 
the  connexion  with  this  country  was  one  of  the  oldest,  so  it 
has  always  remained  one  of  the  firmest  links  of  the  British 
continental  interests.  Besides  the  trade  with  the  Nether- 
lands, England  found  a  market  for  her  wool  in  the  north- 
eastern countries  of  Europe,  in  Prussia,  Denmark,  Sweden, 
and  Norway,  and  even  in  Russia.  This  trade  was  for  some 
time  carried  on  only  by  the  vessels  belonging  to  the  Han- 
seatic  league ;  which,  as  it  is  well  known,  had  one  of  its 
commercial  establishments  in  London.  But  the  English 
began  to  try  all  means  in  order  to  bring  it  into  their  own 
hands,  and  thus  differences  arose ;  which,  however,  ended 
rather  in  piracy,  and  that  of  the  most  cruel  kind,  than  in 
formal  wars.  If  the  power  of  this  league,  however,  had  not 
been  already  so  much  on  the  decline,  that  Elizabeth  was 
enabled  to  deprive  it  of  its  commercial  privileges  in  England, 
these  circumstances  might  have  had  a  much  greater  influence 
upon  the  continental  politics  of  this  country,  than  actually 
was  the  case. 

These  are  the  ties  which,  under  the  first  four  Tudors,  con- 
nected England  with  the  continent  of  Europe.  They  were 
all  of  the  most  delicate  and  frail  nature ;  and  for  the  most 
part  detrimental  to  England.  But  it  was  reserved  for  the 
last  monarch  of  this  house  to  create  a  firmer  and  better  con- 
nexion ;  and  in  the  history  of  the  continental  interests  of 
England,  her  reign  undoubtedly  constitutes  a  distinct  and 
very  important  period. 

SECOND  PERIOD. 
PERIOD  OF  ELIZABETH,  1558—1603. 

In  the  whole  history  of  the  British  continental  interests 
there  are,  properly  speaking,  only  two  periods  which  form 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


375 


general  epochs — that  of  EHzabeth,  and  that  of  William  III. 
However  great  may  have  been  the  claims  advanced  by  her 
arrogant  father,  it  was  only  under  Elizabeth  that  England 
raised  itself  to  the  first  rank  among  nations.  During  this 
reign  it  first  learnt  its  power  and  the  proper  sphere  of  its  ac- 
tion ;  the  old  visions  of  continental  conquests  vanished  away  ; 
all  the  family  connexions  by  which  England  had  been  united 
with  the  continent  were  dissolved ;  and  in  their  place  arose 
relations  of  a  very  different  character,  produced  by  neither 
private  interest  nor  vain  projects  of  aggrandizement.  Eli- 
zabeth has  the  merit  of  having  made  her  private  interest 
subservient  to  that  of  her  nation,  or  at  least  of  having  united 
the  two,  whilst  her  predecessors  were  guided  solely  by  the 
former ;  and  this,  notwithstanding  the  cunning  and  deceit- 
fulness  sometimes  displayed  in  it,  forms  the  principal  fea- 
ture of  her  glorious  reign. 

Her  first  undertaking  was  the  introduction  of  Protestantism 
into  England  ;  and  this  determined  not  only  the  internal  re- 
lations of  her  kingdom,  but  became  for  a  long  time  the  true 
foundation  of  the  foreign  interests  of  Britain. 

A  change  of  religion  was  in  itself  an  affair  of  the  people, 
and  not  of  the  government  alone.  Elizabeth,  in  yielding  to 
the  wishes  of  a  large  majority  of  the  nation,  founded  a  real 
and  universal  national  interest;  but  at  the  same  time  one 
which  affected  the  government.  And  as  the  Reformation 
implicated  England  in  the  politics  of  the  continent,  it  is  at 
once  evident  that  this  connexion  must  have  been  closer  than 
any  could  have  been  before.  It  now  for  the  first  time  be- 
came possible,  that  a  real  continental  interest  should  arise,  at 
least  if  we  understand  by  this  one  which  is  not  merely  the 
personal  interest  of  the  ruler,  but  also  that  of  the  people. 
Such  a  connexion  was  now,  by  many  circumstances,  render- 
ed unavoidable. 

About  the  time  when  the  Reformation  was  introduced 
into  England,  the  religious  interest^  was  also  in  a  great  de- 
gree a  political  one.  The  maintenance  of  the  constitution 
rested  directly  on  Protestantism ;  and  it  could  not  escape 
the  observation  of  the  queen,  that  the  fall  of  that  religion 
would  have  involved  her  own.     She  was  forced,  therefore, 

'  See  above,  Political  Consequences  of  the  Reformation,  second  period  ; 
page  289. 


376 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


to  become  its  defender,  but  circumstances  made  it  impossible 
that  she  should  confine  herself  to  playing  that  part  at  home. 
England  (for  Sweden  had  not  yet  taken  a  decided  part)  was 
the  first  leading  power  which  had  declared  for  the  Protest- 
ants ;  and  Elizabeth  was  therefore  considered  as  the  general 
supporter,  if  not  the  head,  of  the  party ;  a  character  which 
she  could  not  refuse  without  endangering  her  own  interests. 
Then  as  Spain  was  at  this  time  governed  by  Philip  II.,  the 
most  determined  of  the  defenders  of  the  old  doctrine,  a'man 
too  whose  pride  Elizabeth  had  wounded  by  the  refusal  of  his 
hand,  the  antipathy  which  sprung  up  between  these  two 
powers  became  an  almost  necessary  consequence.  But 
again,  it  was  this  very  antipathy  which  laid  the  foundation 
of  the  greatness  of  England.  The  religious  interest  now  in- 
volved that  of  independence  and  political  existence ;  and 
England,  in  entering  the  lists  against  the  first  power  of  the 
time,  was  under  the  necessity  of  either  raising  herself  to  emi- 
nence, or  abjectly  submitting  to  be  crushed ;  the  choice  lay 
between  victory  and  destruction. 

That  this  relation  between  England  and  Spain  could  last 
thirty  years  (1558—1588)  without  breaking  into  open  war 
while  at  the  same  time  Elizabeth  never,  during  this  lonc^ 
period,  made  a  single  sacrifice  of  her  real  interests,  is  un"^ 
doubtedly  the  most  splendid  proof  of  her  superior  political 
ability.  But  in  the  mean  time,  other  circumstances  arose 
on  the  continent,  which  very  much  strengthened  the  con- 
nexion with  England ;  namely,  the  war  of  the  Hugonots  in 
J^rance,  and  the  revolution  in  the  Netherlands.  And  al- 
though one  of  these  ties  was  broken  off  even  during  the 
estfblisfecf ''^^^^^^'   the  other  seemed  to  be  permanently 

When  the  disturbances  began  in  the  Netherlands,  there 
were  three  reasons  why  England  should  take  part  with  the 
insurgents.  It  has  been  mentioned,  that  the  Flemish  pro- 
vinces were  the  principal  market  for  the  disposal  of  British 
produce,^  and  even  on  this  account  England  could  not  be  in- 

'  Even  at  the  beginning  of  the  troubles  in  1564,  an  attemnt  to  nrevenf  thp 
importation  of  English  cloths,  occasioned  disputes  whLrwere  Sf^^^^^^^ 
onfy  by  a  provisional  arrangement.  See  Rapin,  in  whose  work  maralso  be 
found  an  account  of  the  trade  between  England  and  the  NetherTands  Its 
whole  value  IS  put  at  twe  ve  miUions  in  gold,  (quere,  what  dXrW  which 

t^  p  ^^1  e7]  729  '      ""  ^"^^"''^  ""^"""^^^  '^  ^^'  mill  ons    Vol 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


877 


different  to  their  fate.  This,  then,  was  one  reason  for  inter- 
ference. The  second  regarded  the  religious  interests  which 
they  had  in  common.  The  struggle  which  was  here  begin- 
ning, was  one  against  religious  tyranny ;  if  the  Protestant 
creed  was  victorious  in  the  Netherlands,  its  maintenance  in 
Germany  and  England  was  also  secured;  but  in  both 
countries  this  was  more  than  doubtful,  if  Spain  succeeded 
in  stifling  it  there.  The  third  reason  was,  that  the  loss  of 
the  Netherlands  would  be  a  blow  to  the  Spanish  power, 
which  must  eventually  prove  fatal  to  it,  and  insure  success 
to  England  in  the  rivalry  which  had  now  commenced. 

For  these  reasons  Elizabeth  took  a  share  in  the  Flemish 
disturbances ;  and  this  share  was  advantageous  not  only  to 
her,  but  to  the  nation.  She  did  not  do  more  however  than 
give  them  scanty  subsidies,  and  permit  her  subjects  to  serve 
as  volunteers  in  their  army.  She  wished,  as  it  appears,  to 
avoid,  if  possible,  a  war  with  Spain ;  and  she  well  knew, 
that  the  scanty  assistance  she  gave,  was  best  calculated  to 
develope  their  powers,  and  thus  to  obtain  her  principal  object. 
It  was  only  in  1585,  that  she  made  a  formal  treaty  with 
them,  by  which,  in  consideration  of  the  money  which  she 
had  advanced,  and  the  troops  which  she  supplied,  three  of 
their  ports  were  pledged  to  her,  and  a  place  in  the  council 
of  war,  then  existing,  was  promised  to  her  ambassador ;  at 
the  same  time,  however,  she  declined  the  proffered  sove- 
reignty over  these  provinces.  These  and  other  well-known 
circumstances  led  to  a  formal  quarrel  with  Spain,  and  the 
interests  of  Eugland  and  the  Netherlands,  in  respect  to  this 
power,  became  inseparably  united.  The  destmction  of  the 
invincible  armada  (1588)  freed  England  at  once  from  all 
apprehension  of  the  Spanish  power ;  and  now  Elizabeth  had 
no  longer  any  wish  to  put  a  stop  to  a  war,  the  circumstances 
of  which  were  favourable  not  only  to  the  security,  but  also 
to  the  greatness  of  her  empire. 

If  we  consider  the  whole  conduct  of  Elizabeth  towards 
the  Netherlands,  we  shall  plainly  discover  what  her  inten- 
tions were.  That  this  infant  state,  just  liberating  itself  from 
thraldom,  would  advance  with  such  gigantic  strides  towards 
the  greatness  which  awaited  it :  that  it  would  not  only  out- 
strip Spain,  but,  by  engrossing  the  commerce  of  the  world, 
would  even  surpass  England  itself,  and  oblige  that  state  to 


II 


378 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


379 


strain  every  nerve,  in  order  to  supplant  its  rival :  all  this  did 
not  occur  to  her,  nor  was  it  probable  that  it  should.  She 
fancied  that  she  was  raising  up  a  state,  which  could  exist 
only  under  the  protection  of  England,  and  would  therefore 
never  be  able  to  act  in  opposition  to  the  British  influence. 
She  wished  to  establish  her  supremacy  here,  as  she  had  done 
in  Scotland,  and  would  gladly  have  done  in  France.  This 
manner  of  extending  her  power,  was  as  much  studied  by 
EHzabeth  as  it  was  by  Philip  II. ;  but  she  knew  how  to  play 
her  game  more  secretly,  and  calculated  the  chances  better. 
It  could  not  be  otherwise,  however,  than  that  the  mutual 
rivalry  between  England  and  Spain,  (on  which  now  de- 
pended the  balance  of  Europe,)  should  produce  these  strug- 
gles :  the  territory  which  one  side  gained,  was  lost  by  the 
other ;  and  each  therefore  was  compelled  to  endeavour,  not 
only  to  maintain,  but  also  to  add  to  its  possessions. 

The  turn  which  the  affairs  of  the  Netherlands  took  during 
this  reign,  must  have  tended  still  more  to  strengthen  the  ties 
between  them  and  England.  The  Belgic  provinces,  it  is 
true,  were  restored  during  the  war  to  the  Spanish  dominion, 
and  the  Batavian  alone  maintained  their  independence ;  but 
even  while  the  war  was  raging,  all  manufactures  and  trade 
had  been  transferred  from  the  former,  which  were  the  con- 
stant scene  of  action,  to  the  latter,  which  suffered  infinitely 
less ;  and  since  in  these  Protestantism  finally  triumphed, 
they  became  connected  with  England  by  religious  as  well 
as  mercantile  interests,  and  common  enmity  to  Spain  re- 
mained the  watchword  of  both  nations. 

The  relations  in  which  Elizabeth  stood  towards  France, 
were  much  more  complicated ;  and  she  could  hardly  herself 
have  been  aware,  how  far  they  would  lead  her.  The  pro- 
tracted hopes  of  marriage  which  she  held  out  to  Francis  of 
Alen^on,  the  presumptive  heir  to  the  crown,  and  which, 
even  allowing  for  the  feelings  of  her  sex  to  the  degree  which 
her  history  requires,  it  could  never  have  entered  into  her 
plans  to  fulfil,  were  the  veil  under  which  she  concealed  her 
true  designs.  The  religious  wars,  which  commenced  in 
1562,  had  lasted  but  a  short  time,  when  she  began  to  sup- 
port the  Hugonots  by  intercession,  by  money,  and  by  vo- 
lunteers ;  and  this  she  continued  to  do,  without  openly 
breaking  off*  her  amicable  relations  with  the  government. 


It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  parallel  to  the  political  game 
which  she  played  here,  and  which  surpassed  in  subtlety  even 
that  carried  on  by  her  in  the  Netherlands.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  know  how  these  wars  might  terminate,  but  here  too 
her  rivalry  with  Spain  formed  her  chief  inducement  to  act 
as  she  did.  As  Philip  II.  supported  the  league  in  order  to 
further  his  own  views,  she  opposed  him  by  siding  with 
Henry  of  Navarre ;  and  when  this  prince  came  into  quiet 
possession  of  his  throne,  she  joined  him  in  the  war  against 
Spain,  which,  as  concerned  France,  was  terminated  by  the 
peace  of  Vervins  (1598).  But  the  pacification  of  the  Hugo- 
nots by  the  edict  of  Nantes,  and  the  death  of  Philip,  which 
happened  in  the  same  year,  were  of  themselves  sufficient  to 
destroy  this  interest,  the  very  nature  of  which  was  but 
transient. 

These  were  the  principal  supports  on  which  rested  the 
continental  interests  of  England  during  this  reign ;  but  the 
great  and  manifold  development  of  the  powers  of  the  nation 
during  the  same  period,  had  also  an  influence  upon  them 
which  must  be  the  less  neglected  in  proportion  to  its  greater 
permanency. 

It  was  during  the  time  of  Elizabeth  that  England  first 
learnt  for  what  she  was  destined,  and  became  acquainted 
with  her  proper  sphere  of  action,  since  it  was  then  that  she 
laid  the  foundation  of  her  universal  commerce  and  naviga- 
tion, although  it  was  not  till  a  later  period  that  the  structure 
was  brought  to  perfection.  The  rivalry  with  Spain  chiefly 
conduced  to  this ;  and  as  the  possessions  of  that  nation  ex- 
tended over  the  most  remote  parts  of  the  earth,  England 
was  not  wanting  in  the  courage  requisite  to  seek  and  en- 
counter its  enemies  on  the  most  distant  seas.  In  this  man- 
ner were  the  seeds  of  many  branches  of  British  commerce, 
which  attained  their  perfection  long  afterwards,  sown,  since 
England  now  sought  to  appropriate  to  herself  her  own  car- 
rying trade,  which  hitherto  had  been  chiefly  in  the  hands  of 
foreigners.  While  she  was  seeking  a  north-eastern  passage 
to  India,  arose  her  commerce  by  way  of  Archangel  with 
Moscow,  and  even  Persia.  Thus  originated  the  share  which 
she  took  in  the  Newfoundland  fisheries,  which  afterwards 
became  of  such  immeasurable  importance.  Thus,  too,  the 
first  trial  of  the  African  slave  trade.     It  was  thus  that  the 


380 


II 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


Hanseatic  league  was  deprived  of  its  privileges  in  England, 
and  British  ship-owners  got  the  continental  trade  into  their 
hands.  Thus,  too,  were  made  the  first,  although  ineffectual 
attempts,  to  colonize  North  America.  Thus  was  England 
even  then  induced  to  turn  her  attention  to  the  commerce 
with  India  by  the  way  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope ;  and  as 
early  as  the  end  of  this  reign  (1600)  the  old  East  India 
Company  was  established,  although  as  yet  there  were  no 
important  possessions  in  those  parts.  Thus  many  disco- 
veries were  made,  and  to  this  it  is  owing  that  Drake  made 
his  successful  voyage  round  the  world. 

Most  of  these  new  branches  of  commerce  were,  it  is  true, 
so  inconsiderable  at  that  time,  that  they  could  not  be  fairly 
regarded  as  possessing  direct  political  influence.  Commer- 
cial wars,  strictly  speaking,  had  not  as  yet  arisen ;  but  the  im- 
portance of  trade  in  general  began  to  be  more  sensibly  felt. 
To  this  it  must  be  added,  that  with  the  commerce  and  the 
navigation  of  England,  her  naval  power  was  also  extended. 
As  yet  England  had  not  been,  in  the  present  sense  of  the 
word,  a  naval  power — it  was  only  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
VHI.  that  a  slight  foundation  was  laid  for  that  "Royal  Navy'' 
in  which  was  to  consist  the  future  strength  of  the  country. 
The  rivalry  with  Spain  rendered  an  increase  of  naval  power 
necessary,  and  therefore  it  was  augmented  under  Elizabeth ; 
but  some  great  trial  of  strength  was  wanting  to  prove  its 
whole  importance  to  England.  This  was  afforded  by  the 
invincible  armada ;  and  from  that  time  the  conviction  be- 
came deeply  rooted  that  the  security  and  independence  of 
Britain  depends  upon  her  wooden  walls.  From  that  moment 
she  suddenly  became  conscious  of  her  power,  and  the  defen- 
sive war  was  changed  into  an  offensive  one ;  from  it  too  we 
must  date  the  rise  of  her  designs  upon  the  sovereignty  of 
the  seas,  which,  cleared  as  they  now  were  of  the  Spanish 
fleets,  seemed  only  to  await  a  new  mistress. 

The  conclusion  at  which  we  arrive  therefore  is,  that,  1. 
The  interest  of  religion  under  Elizabeth  was  also  that  of  in- 
dependence, and  of  the  connexion  between  England  and 
the  continent ;  2.  That  during  her  time  the  foundation  was 
laid  for  a  commercial  interest,  the  whole  power  of  which 
however  was  not  to  be  developed  till  a  later  period. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN.  381 

THIRD  PERIOD. 

PERIOD  OF  THE  STUARTS,  1603-1689. 

At  the  time  when  the  Stuarts  ascended  the  throne  of  Eng- 
land, the  religious  interest  formed,  as  is  evident  from  the 
preceding  part  of  this  inquiry,  the  pivot  on  which  turned  the 
whole  politics,  both  foreign  and  domestic,  at  once  of  Eng- 
land and  the  rest  of  Europe.  On  Protestantism  Elizabeth 
had  founded  her  throne  and  her  greatness,  and  a  firmer 
basis  they  could  not  have  had  ;  because  she  thus  united  her 
interest  with  that  of  the  people.  Her  successor  appeared 
therefore  to  have  his  way  marked  out  for  him  ;  he  thought 
fit,  however,  to  choose  another,  and  thus  prepared  the  fall 
of  his  dynasty. 

The  house  of  the  Stuarts  is  probably  the  only  one  in  his- 
tory which  brought  on  its  fall,  not  so  much  by  practical  as 
by  theoretical  principles.  These  principles  were,  however, 
at  direct  variance  with  the  interests  of  England  generally ; 
and  more  especially  with  her  continental  interests.  Since 
Elizabeth,  by  the  defence  of  Protestantism,  had  attained  the 
supremacy  of  Protestant  Europe,  it  was  evident  that  to  main- 
tain it  her  successor  must  assume  the  same  character.  But 
James  I.  was  rendered  incapable  of  doing  so,  by  the  strange 
mixture  of  political  and  religious  sentiments  in  which  he 
loved  to  indulge,  and  which  remained  the  hereditary  and 
deep-rooted  sentiments  of  his  family.  His  theory  respect- 
ing the  high  dignity  and  unlimited  power  of  royalty,  deter- 
mined his  religious  creed,  which  was  confirmed  by  the  feel- 
ings which  in  his  youth  had  been  roused  in  him  by  the  fate 
of  his  mother.  He  hated  the  puritans  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart,  because  he  scarce  considered  them  in  any  light  but 
that  of  rebels.  He  professed  that  he  belonged  to  the  epis- 
copal church,  because  to  be  king  of  England  it  was  neces- 
sary that  he  should  do  so,  but  his  very  first  speech  in  par- 
liament declares  in  such  plain  words  that  Catholicism, 
(excepting  the  doctrine  of  the  papal  supremacy,  which  was 
detestable  to  him  from  its  limiting  the  regal  power,)  was  the 
religion  of  his  heart,  that  it  could  not  but  destroy  once  and 
for  ever  the  confidence  of  the  nation  in  their  king.^ 

*  This  speech,  like  the  rest  of  those  composed  by  the  king  himself,  forms  a 
rious  document  illustrative  of  Enjrlish  history.     It  contains  the  seeds  of 


curious 


382 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


An  immediate  reaction  upon  the  continental  policy  of 
England  could  not  but  ensue,  and  even  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  reign  of  James  I.  it  showed  itself  in  two  ways  ; 
in  the  peace  with  Spain,  and  in  the  transactions  between 
that  power  and  the  Netherlands.  In  1604  James  concluded 
the  war  with  Spain  which  Elizabeth  had  so  determinately 
carried  on,  by  a  peace  with  Philip  III. ;  in  which  no  single 
advantage  was  gained  for  England,  and  the  Netherlands 
were  left  to  their  fate.  How  far  the  conditions  of  that  treaty 
were  favourable  or  unfavourable  to  England,  made  but  little 
difference  ;  with  this  peace  expired  that  rivalry  with  Spain, 
which  under  Elizabeth  had  been  the  soul  of  British  politics. 
On  this  rivalry  was  founded  the  greatness  of  the  nation ; 
through  it  her  naval  power  had  developed  itself;  and  it  sup- 
ported the  confidence  of  the  other  Protestant  states  of  Eu- 
rope and  the  supremacy  of  England.  It  is  clear  also,  that 
the  change  in  these  relations  produced  a  corresponding  one 
in  the  whole  course  of  foreign  policy  pursued  by  England, 
and  the  firmest,  and  under  existing  circumstances  the  most 
natural,  connexion  between  her  and  the  continent  was  broken. 

The  second  occasion,  when  the  change  in  the  political 
system  of  England  became  apparent,  was  the  negotiation 
which  the  Netherlands  entered  into  with  Spain,  respecting 
the  recognition  of  their  independence  in  the  year  1607. 
This  period  was  of  incalculable  importance  to  England, 
which  had  so  long  fought  the  same  battle  as  themselves. 
With  what  activity  would  not  Elizabeth  have  applied  the 
negotiation  to  her  own  advantage,  so  as  to  take  the  whole 
credit  to  herself,  and  to  attach  the  new  state  to  England,  by 
unstrained  but  yet  secure  ties  !  But  thoughts  like  these  did 
not  enter  a  head  like  that  of  James  I.  According  to  his 
sentiments,  the  Netherlands  were  nothing  more  than  rebels 
to  their  sovereign,  and  thus  even  in  the  midst  of  the  negotia- 
tion, he  acted  in  so  contradictory  a  manner,  that  no  one  knew 
what  his  designs  were,  because  he  did  now  know  himself 
The  consequence  was,  that  at  length  no  one  noticed  him, 
and  Henry  IV.  obtained  the  influence  which  Elizabeth 
would  have  secured  to  herself 

that  harvest  of  misfortunes  which  the  Stuarts  afterwards  reaped.  One  might 
almost  say  that  the  evil  genius  of  this  family,  which  drove  it  blindly  from 
one  fault  to  another,  had  inspired  the  king  with  it. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


383 


This  apathy  and  indolence,  which  James  I.  concealed  un- 
der the  name  of  love  of  peace,  would  have  completely  broken 
up  the  relations  between  England  and  the  continent,  had 
they  not  been  renewed  by  family  circumstances.  The  care 
of  making  a  suitable  marriage  for  his  son,  which,  according 
to  his  notions,  could  only  be  with  the  daughter  of  a  king, 
carried  him  into  negotiations,  which  characterize  more  per- 
haps than  any  thing  else  the  perverseness  of  this  eccentric 
king.  A  Spanish  princess  was  to  be  the  wife  of  his  son  and 
future  successor ;  a  Catholic,  therefore,  a  descendant  of  that 
family  and  of  that  nation,  who,  both  by  religious  and  po- 
litical interest,  were  the  hereditary  foes  of  England.  Thus 
James  I.  was  indifferent  to  risking  his  own  interest,  that  of 
his  son,  and  of  his  country,  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  a  ca- 
price, which  found  a  ready  support  in  his  prejudices.  This 
is  not  the  place  for  reviewing  this  extraordinary  negotiation, 
in  which  Spain  had  the  advantage  during  seven  years 
(1617 — 1624)  of  leading  the  weak  monarch  according  to 
her  own  views,  and  which,  when  at  length  it  failed,  was  the 
occasion  of  a  war,  by  engaging  in  which  the  luckless  Charles 
took  the  first  step  towards  his  ruin.  But  during  the  pro- 
gress of  these  negotiations,  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth,  only 
daughter  of  James  I.,  had  created  new  continental  relations, 
which  had  a  considerable  influence.  In  1612  she  was  mar- 
ried to  Frederic  V.,  Elector  of  the  Palatinate,  who,  in  1618, 
assumed  the  crown  of  Bohemia,  which,  as  well  as  his  own 
family  possessions,  he  lost  by  the  battle  of  Prague  and  its 
results.  If  James  I.  had  taken  an  active  part  in  the  Ger- 
man war,  it  would  never  have  been  laid  to  his  charge,  that 
he  bartered  the  interest  of  the  empire  for  that  of  his  daugh- 
ter. For  the  first  was  here  concerned  as  well  as  the  latter ; 
the  interest  of  Protestantism  was  at  stake,  and  this  more 
especially,  because  in  1621,  the  war  between  Spain  and  the 
Netherlands  was  renewed.  But  here  too  James  I.  played  a 
double  part.  He  did  not  approve  of  the  undertaking  of  his 
son-in-law,  because  he  considered  the  Bohemians  as  rebels, 
and  yet  he  would  willingly  have  seen  his  daughter  a  queen. 
But  the  close  connexion  between  Spain  and  Austria  made 
the  policy  of  interference  still  more  questionable ;  for  if  he 
had  decided  on  coming  forward,  a  threat  from  Spain  of 
breaking  off  the  negotiations  for  the  marriage  of  his  son 


It 


384 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


would  have  made  him  as  undecided  as  ever.  Hence  the 
melancholy  part  which  he  took  in  this  eventful  period.  An 
idle  show  of  assistance  was  all  that  his  son-in-law  received 
from  him. 

But  if  James  I.  thus  betrayed  the  continental  interests  of 
England,  this  neglect  brought  its  own  punishment,  and  that 
a  severe  one.     The  power  which,  under  his  predecessor, 
had  turned  the  scales  in  the  political  balance  of  Europe,' 
now  sank  into  such  insignificance  as  almost  to  become  the 
ridicule  of  Europe.     Our  inquiry  thus  far  has  shown,  that 
the  relations  between  England  and  the  continent  were  as  yet 
very  simple,  when  compared  to  those  of  later  times  ;  and  yet 
her  history,  even  under  James  I.,  clearly  shows  that  a  neglect 
of  her  continental  interests  is  with  her  the  signal  of  decline. 
It  is  true,  that  the  reign  of  his  ill-fated  son  began  with  a 
twofold  war,  with  Spain  and  with  France ;  but  the  first  arose 
from  the  failure  of  the  scheme  of  marriage,  and  was  founded 
only  on  family  interests  ;  the  other  aimed  at  the  defence  of 
the  Hugonots  in  France,  who  had  been  disarmed  by  Riche- 
lieu, and  therefore  the  support  of  religion  might  be  supposed 
to  be  involved  in  it ;  but  the  real  cause  was  hatred  of  that 
minister ;  while  both  were  carried  on  in  so  weak  and  spirit- 
less a  manner,  that  they  only  served  to  embroil  Charles  I. 
with  his  parliament.     Although  Charles  took  some  share  in 
the  affairs  of  Germany  and  of  the  Palatine  family,  it  was  so 
inconsiderable,  that  it  led  to  no  results ;   and  it  was  very 
evident  that  he  was  induced  to  it,  not  so  much  by  religious 
or  national,  as  by  family  interests.     The  true  continental  in- 
terest of  England  was  left  out  of  sight ;  and  when  the  storm 
m  his  own  country  began  to  gather,  he  had  no  time  to  give 
any  attention  to  foreign  aflPairs,  and  England  remained  as  it 
were  isolated  in  the  European  system,  until  Cromwell  (1649) 
had  possessed  himself  of  the  helm  of  state.     The  govern- 
ment of  that  bold  usurper  is  distinguished,  not  only  by  a 
more  active  interest  in  the  transient  affairs  of  the  continent, 
but  also  for  the  lasting  consequences  which  resulted  from 
It.     The  stormy  times  of  the  revolution  had  roused  a  power 
in  England  hitherto  unknown ;   almost  every  one  who  was 
capable  of  it  had  carried  arms,  and  the  spirit  of  faction  had 
created  moral  energies,  which  can  be  brought  into  action 
only  at  such  periods.     To  this  must  be  added  the  fact,  that, 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


385 


notwithstanding  the  troubles  of  the  times,  the  navy  had  not 
been  neglected  either  by  Charles  I.  or  his  father.  He  had 
most  scrupulously  applied  the  sums  granted  for  its  support, 
and  England,  as  a  republic,  stood  both  by  land  and  sea  in  a 
more  formidable  attitude  than  she  had  done  as  a  monarchy. 

The  private  interest  of  the  Protector  made  it,  no  doubt, 
requisite  that  he  should  take  an  active  part  in  foreign  affairs, 
as  well  to  afford  vent  to  the  excitement  at  home,  as  to  give 
splendour  to  his  reign ;  but,  independently  of  this,  a  new 
interest  had  been  springing  up,  which,  in  progress  of  time, 
rapidly  increased,  and  gradually  gained  a  greater  influence 
upon  the  relations  between  England  and  the  great  powers  of 
the  continent,  namely,  the  colonial  interest. 

With  the  East  Indies,  England  had,  it  is  true,  for  some 
time  carried  on  a  considerable  trade,  but  as  yet  it  had  no 
territorial  possessions,  and  was  confined  to  a  few  scattered 
factories.  But  even  these  already  furnished  occasions  of 
quarrel  with  Holland  and  Spain,  whose  jealousy  would  suf- 
fer no  strangers  to  gain  a  footing  there.^  But,  properly 
speaking,  the  first  colonies  of  the  English  were  on  the  coasts 
of  North  America,  and  the  West  Indies ;  and  they  owed 
their  origin  chiefly  to  political  and  religious  interests.  Bands 
of  malcontents  wandered  across  the  ocean,  and  sought  be- 
yond its  waters  a  freedom  or  security,  which  they  either  did 
not,  or  imagined  they  did  not,  find  at  home.  Thus  arose 
the  numerous  settlements  in  several  of  what  are  the  United 
States,  and  in  1623,  and  1624,  in  Barbadoes,  St.  Christo- 
pher's, and  some  of  the  smaller  islands,  which  the  Spaniards 
had  not  thought  it  worth  their  while  to  occupy. 

These  foreign  possessions  always  continued  in  a  certain 
state  of  dependence  on  the  mother  country,  although  this  re- 
lation received  different  modifications.  The  mother  country 
was  therefore  under  the  obligation  of  defending  them,  and 
as  this  was  especially  necessary  against  the  continental 
powers,  the  colonial  interest  naturally  became  a  mainspring 
in  the  continental  politics  of  England.  This  state  of  things 
was  at  first  caused  by  the  absurd  pretensions  of  the  Spaniards, 
who,  as  the  first  discoverers  of  the  new  world,  claimed  the 

'  Particularly  in  the  year  1623,  at  Amboina,  where  the  Dutch  massacred 
the  English  colonists  in  a  horrid  manner,  under  pretence  that  they  were  en- 
gaged m  a  conspiracy ;  and  also  took  the  small  island  of  Poleroon  from  England. 

2  c 


386 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


exclusive  possession  of  it,  and  the  sole  right  of  trading  in  its 
seas.  These  claims  were  not  relinquished  even  in  time  of 
peace ;  and  although  after  the  treaty  of  1604  these  settle- 
ments obtained  a  little  more  peace,  and  therefore  prospered 
better,  the  Spaniards  exercised  occasional  acts  of  violence 
and  cruelty,  which  sufficiently  proved  that  they  had  no  in- 
tention of  resigning  their  claims,  and  afforded  at  least  one  of 
the  grounds  which  determined  Cromwell  to  chastise  them, 
when  he  declared  war  against  them  in  1655. 

The  whole  system  which  the  Protector  adopted  in  regard 
to  continental  pohtics,  is  very  comprehensive  and  compli- 
cated, and  therefore  not  easy  to  include  in  one  view.^  His 
whole  government  show  how  important  he  considered  it; 
and  although  we  cannot  deny  that  private  feelings  and  ob- 
jects influenced  his  measures,  still  it  is  clear  that  his  main 
object  was  to  make  it  a  means  of  increasing  the  commercial 
navigation  of  England.  The  consequences  of  it  were,  the 
two  foreign  wars  which  he  carried  on ;  viz.  that  with  Hol- 
land (1652—1654),  and  that  with  Spain  (1655—1657). 

Whatever  other  circumstances  may  have  had  their  influ- 
ence in  the  former  of  these,  it  was  in  reality  a  commercial 
war,  and  the  first  in  which  England  had  engaged.  The  re- 
lation in  which  she  stood  to  the  West  Indian  colonies,  where 
the  Dutch  were  in  possession  of  nearly  all  the  commerce  of 
the  British  islands,  and  more  especially  that  of  Barbadoes, 
led  to  the  passing  of  that  famous  Navigation  Act,  which  not 
only  secured  to  the  mother  country  the  whole  trade  of  the 
colonies,  but  also  forbade  the  introduction  of  European  pro- 
duce in  any  ships  but  those  of  the  country  from  which  it 
came ;  and  thus  gave  the  death-blow  to  the  extensive  car- 
rying trade  of  Holland.  This  Act  was  therefore  little  less 
than  a  declaration  of  war.  The  relations  between  the  two 
states,  however,  had  undergone  a  great  change.  Holland 
had  all  but  secured  the  monopoly  of  the  commerce  of  the 
world,  and  England  if  she  wished  to  have  any  share  of  it, 
could  not  avoid  entering  into  a  contest  such  as  Cromwell 
engaged  in.  The  dispute  which  arose  respecting  the  rights 
of  the  flag,  unimportant  as  it  may  appear,  displays  in  a  re- 

'  This  is  the  part  of  Cromweirs  history  in  which  Hume  has  been  the  least 
successful.  He  omits  the  mention  of  all  those  leading  principles  of  his  po- 
licy, which  the  slightest  glance  at  it  will  display. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


387 


markable  manner  the  rivalry  of  the  two  nations ;  but  that 
England,  by  persisting  in  the  Navigation  Act,  laid  the  found- 
ation of  her  naval  power,  requires  no  proof. 

The  war  with  Spain,  with  the  assistance  of  France,  exer- 
cised a  twofold  influence  upon  the  interests  of  Britain.    In 
the  first  place,  the  conquest  of  Jamaica  (1655)  secured  for 
ever  the  colonial  interest  in  the  West  Indies.    Until  that  time 
England  possessed  only  a  few  of  the  smaller  Carib  islands, 
and  that  by  suflPerance  rather  than  by  any  power  of  her  own! 
It  was  the  intention  of  Cromwell  to  wrest  St.  Domingo  from 
the  Spaniards,  and  thus  to  make  England  mistress  of  the 
West  Indies.    In  this  he  did  not  succeed ;  but  the  conquest 
of  Jamaica,  which,  although  at  that  time  of  no  moment,  became 
in  a  few  years  a  flourishing  English  colony,  compensated  for 
the  disappointment ;  and  as  the  demand  for  their  produce 
increased,  the  West  Indian  colonies  gradually  became  of 
such  importance  to  England  as  necessarily  to  influence,  and 
that  in  a  material  degree,  her  relations  with  other  nations 
which  already  had   established,  or  were  on  the  point  of 
establishing,  settlements  in  those  islands.  A  second  result  of 
this  war  was  the  renewal  of  the  scheme  of  conquests  on  the 
continent.  It  was  the  intention  of  the  Protector  to  gain  pos- 
session of  the  sea-port  towns,  and  perhaps  of  the  whole  coast 
of  the  Spanish  Netherlands ;  and  France  was  obliged  to 
pledge  herself  beforehand  to  resign  to  England  the  places 
which   it   was   proposed  should  be  taken,   viz.   Dunkirk, 
Mardyk,  and   Gravelines;    and   in   this  manner  the  two 
former  really  came  into  the  possession  of  the  English.    But 
his  views  were  yet  more  extensive.    He  wished  to  gain  also 
the  principal  ports  in  the  North  Sea  and  the  Baltic ;  and  the 
treaty  with  Sweden  (1657)  was  intended  to  prepare  the  way 
for  this.*     At  this  period  Charles  X.,  the  warlike  successor 
of  Christina,  was  planning  the  formation  of  a  great  North- 
ern monarchy,  by  the  conquest  of  Poland  and  Denmark. 
The  Protector  promised  him  support,  and  expected  in  re- 
turn the  possession  of  Bremen,  of  Elsinore,  and  Dantzic. 
But  a  longer  life  would  have  been  requisite  to  carry  out 

'According  to  Hume,  he  entered  into  this  alliance  with  Sweden  from  mere 
zeal  in  the  Protestant  cause.  Nevertheless,  according  to  the  seventeenth  article 
of  the  treaty,  he  retained  the  right  of  disposing  of  all  fortresses  taken  from 
the  Danes ;  which  surely  cannot  have  been  wholly  dictated  by  zeal  for  the 
Protestant  cause. 


2c2 


£%- 


388 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


389 


these  plans  than  fell  to  the  lot  of  Cromwell ;  the  possession 
of  Jamaica  and  the  Navigation  Act,  (Dunkirk  being  sold  to 
the  French  in  1662,)  remained  the  only  permanent  memo- 
rials of  his  protectorate. 

However  extensive  therefore  were  his  views  of  continental 
policy,  it  is  clear  that  but  few  of  them  were  carried  into  exe- 
cution. But  when  the  Stuarts  were  restored  to  the  throne 
(1660)  the  old  prejudices  of  their  family  came  back  with 
them,  and  under  the  existing  circumstances  became  still 
more  dangerous  to  England  than  they  had  been  in  the 
reigns  of  James  L  and  his  son.  It  was  at  this  period  that 
Lewis  XIV.  raised  his  power  in  so  sudden  and  formidable  a 
manner  as  to  disturb  the  peace  and  independence  of  all  his 
neighbours.  In  order  to  carry  out  his  plans,  the  concurrence 
of  England  was  indispensable  ;  and  although  at  his  first  at- 
tempt England  took  part  in  the  alliance  which  brought 
about,  or  seemed  to  bring  about,  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle,  (1668,)  it  is  well  known  from  history  that  Charles  II. 
and  his  venal  ministers  soon  became  so  wound  up  with  the 
interests  of  France,  that  they  even  took  part  in  the  war  for 
the  subjection  of  Flanders  to  France,  although  that  event 
was  evidently  opposed  to  the  interests  of  Britain.  The  hope 
that,  with  the  aid  of  France,  he  should  be  able  to  overturn 
the  constitution  and  the  established  religion,  and  thus  attain 
unlimited  power,  was  the  talisman  by  which  Lewis  led  this 
abandoned  monarch  to  embrace  his  interests,^  and  induced 
him,  as  well  as  his  brother  and  successor,  to  continue  in 
them.  It  would  be  in  vain,  during  the  reign  of  princes 
who  were  guided  only  by  their  passions  and  their  prejudices, 
to  look  for  fixed  principles  of  policy ;  a  revolution  was  ne- 
cessary to  establish  these  upon  a  new  foundation. 

FOURTH  PERIOD. 

WILLIAM  in.  AND  ANNE  (1689— i;i4). 

We  now  come  to  the  period  which  is  undoubtedly  the 
most  important  in  the  history  of  the  modern  continental 
politics  of  England,  namely,  the  period  of  WiUiam  III.  The 
merit  of  having  laid  the  foundation  of  those  continental  in- 
terests which  have  lasted  to  our  time,  belongs  undoubtedly 

•  The  conditions  of  the  secret  alliance  with  France  (1670)  as  quoted  by 
Hume,  put  this  point  beyond  dispute. 


J  to  him.   In  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  as  we  have  shown,  it  was 

j  Protestantism  which  determined  the  relations  between  Eng- 

1^  land  and  the  continent.  It  is  true  that  this  spring  of  action 
^*  operated  more  powerfiilly,  and  for  a  greater  length  of  time, 
here,  than  in  any  other  European  state ;  so  much  so,  that  it 
displayed  considerable  strength  even  under  William  III. ; 
but  as  it  began  about  this  time  to  relax  in  other  states,  the 
same  necessarily  became  the  case  before  long  in  England ; 
and  here  as  elsewhere  it  could  only  be  maintained  for  a  short 
additional  period  by  the  local  or  family  circumstances  of  the 
reigning  house.  Some  other  powerful  inducement  was 
therefore  requisite,  in  order  that  the  participation  of  Eng- 
land in  the  affairs  of  the  continent  should  rest  upon  higher 
grounds  than  the  personal  connexions  and  inclinations  of  the 
monarch.  This  new  spring  of  action,  which  has  continued 
down  to  the  latest  times  the  soul  of  British  policy,  was  the 
rivalry  with  France,  a  principle  which  was  then  established 
for  ever.  England  since  that  time  has  scarcely  ever  entered 
into  any  political  connexions  with  the  continent  which  have 
not  either  mediately  or  immediately  proceeded  from  this 
source.  This  rivalry  has  been  one  of  the  mainsprings  of 
European  politics,  and  the  more  partial  the  view  which  is 
often  taken  of  this  circumstance,  the  more  necessary  it  is 
that  we  should  consider  it  in  its  real  bearings. 

The  rivalry  of  these  two  great  powers  was  undoubtedly 
the  cause,  partly  of  the  origin,  partly  of  the  extension  and 
of  the  prolongation  of  several  of  the  great  wars  which  have 
desolated  not  only  Europe,  but  even  the  most  remote  parts 
of  the  earth.  Considered  in  this  light,  we  may  well  excuse 
the  opinion  which  refers  to  this  rivalry,  as  to  one  of  their 
chief  causes,  the  manifold  evils  which  in  these  times  have 
happened  to  mankind  ;  but  it  is  undoubtedly  a  false  esti- 
mate which  would  assert  that  these  evils,  undeniable  as  they 
are,  outweigh  the  advantages  which  have  sprung  from  the 
same  source.  A  more  extensive  view  of  history  in  general 
will  lead  us  to  a  very  different  result. 

What  is  the  rivalry  of  nations  but  the  spur,  ay,  and  the 
most  effectual  one,  to  prompt  them  to  the  development  of 
their  powers  ?  What  else  therefore  than  the  mainspring  by 
which  they  are  urged  to  the  attainment  of  that  state  of  civil- 
ization for  which  they  are  by  their  capacities  and  circum- 


■^ 


390 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


stances  fitted?  The  progress  of  whole  nations  is  in  this 
respect  the  same  as  that  of  individuals ;  nor  can  it  be  other- 
wise, since  it  is  of  such  that  they  are  composed.  As  amongst 
individuals  it  is  emulation  which  ripens  youth  into  man- 
hood, so  it  is  also  amongst  nations ;  and  it  would  probably 
be  in  vain  to  search  in  history  for  an  example  of  a  nation 
which  became  great  without  the  impulse  of  rivalry.  The 
Greeks  would  never  have  been  the  first  nation  of  their  time, 
had  it  not  been  for  their  victory  over  the  Persians  !  Never 
would  Rome  have  been  mistress  of  the  world,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  struggle  with  Carthage ;  and  Carthage  would 
have  been  without  a  Hamilcar  and  a  Hannibal,  had  she  not 
been  the  rival  of  Rome.  Nay,  even  when  she  was  mistress 
of  the  world,  and  seemed  to  stand  without  a  rival,  Rome 
would  scarcely  have  outlived  the  first  century  of  our  era, 
had  not  the  contest  with  the  Germanic  nations,  which  finally 
subdued  her,  then  upheld  her  in  her  place.  And  does  not 
the  history  of  modern  Europe  present  an  equal  number  of 
examples  ?  Have  not  Spain,  France,  and  the  Netherlands 
raised  themselves  since  the  sixteenth  century  by  their  mu- 
tual rivalry  ?  Was  not  the  rivalry  between  the  Catholic  and 
Protestant  parties  the  life  of  the  German  confederation  ? 
Would  Peter  the  Great,  would  Frederic  H.,  have  reached 
•their  height  of  power,  if  the  one  had  not  had  Swedes,  the 
other  Austrians  to  engage  with  ?  And  yet  in  none  of  these 
instances  has  national  rivalry  done  so  much  as  in  the  con- 
test between  England  and  France.  It  was  this  which  drew 
out  the  noblest  qualities  of  both  nations — it  was  this  which 
preserved  that  love  of  freedom  and  independence  which  is 
founded  on  patriotism — it  was  this  which  kept  alive  the  most 
lofty  feelings  of  the  human  race— it  was  this  which  not  only 
brought  to  perfection  the  civilization  of  these  nations,  but 
also  planted  the  seeds  of  European  refinement  in  the  most 
distant  parts  of  the  globe ;  and  thus  what  in  the  eyes  of 
short-sighted  mortals  was  frequently  considered  the  source 
of  misery  and  calamity,  became  in  the  hands  of  Providence 
the  means  of  producing  and  diffusing  the  perfection  of 
our  race. 

And  thus,  by  taking  this  view,  we  escape  that  partiality 
which  in  any  less  exalted  one  is  unavoidable.  If  we  place 
ourselves  in  the  position  of  either  of  the  two  nations,  we 


' 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


391 


shall  never  be  able  to  form  a  judgment  which  will  not  be 
accused  of  partiality  by  the  other ;  but  if  we  take  this  higher 
ground  we  shall  easily  escape  the  reproach.  It  is  not  ne- 
cessary to  deny  that  errors  have  been  committed,  or  to  gloss 
over  past  acts  of  injustice.  We  grant  that  from  that  rivalry 
have  sprung  many  evils;  but  in  this  we  only  recognise  a 
confirmation  of  the  universal  law,  that  beings  so  imperfect 
as  we  are  can  never  attain  to  the  great  and  good  without 
alloy,  because  we  require  the  impulse  of  our  passions  before 
we  can  put  forth  the  whole  of  that  power  with  which  nature 
has  endowed  us. 

When  William  III.  was  placed  on  the  throne  of  England, 
this  rivalry  was  already  existing  between  the  nations,  although 
not  between  the  governments;  and  even  the  animosity  be- 
tween the  nation  and  the  government  affords  proof  of  this. 
The  religious  influence  was  still  in  full  force  in  England, 
because  the  nation  was  convinced  of  its  connexion  with 
liberty  and  independence.  But  other  causes  were  added  to 
strengthen  this  rivalry  by  the  spirit  of  the  government  of 
Lewis.  His  conquests  must  have  excited  the  attention  of 
England  the  more  from  their  being  directed  against  both  the 
Spanish  and  the  United  Netherlands.  The  independence  of 
the  latter  depended  immediately  upon  the  fate  of  the  former, 
and  we  know  that  the  connexion  between  the  United  Pro- 
vinces and  England  was  so  close,  that  even  the  wars  of 
Cromwell  and  Charles  II.  had  interrupted  it  only  for  a  time. 
But  France  was  becoming  a  more  dangerous  neighbour  to 
England,  as  she  now  took  a  place  among  the  leading  naval 
powers ;  and  the  rivalry  was  yet  more  inflamed  by  the  com- 
mercial and  colonial  system  created  by  Colbert.  During 
the  reigns  of  the  two  last  Stuarts  the  commerce  of  England 
had  advanced  simultaneously  with  the  extension  of  her  co- 
lonies ;  its  importance  was  now  fully  felt ;  and  a  neighbour- 
ing nation  which  in  this  point  sought  to  equal,  if  not  to  excel 
her,  could  not  be  regarded  with  indifference.  But  the 
colonial  system  of  France  now  received  as  great,  if  not  a 
greater  extension  than  that  of  England  ;  and  hence  resulted 
that  unfortunate  confusion  of  the  colonies  of  the  two  nations,^ 

'By  the  peace  of  Breda,  1667,  she  obtained  theprovince  of  New  York  ;  and 
in  ^1680  William  Penn  founded  his  settlement  in  Pennsylvania. 
^  We  may  add,  of  the  European  colonies  generally.    If  there  were  any  step 


392 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


II 


in  their  geographical  situations,  which  has  cost  so  much 
blood,  and  will  probably  cost  yet  more.  In  the  West  and 
East  Indies,  and  in  North  America,  the  French  and  the 
English  now  became  neighbours.  Their  interests  therefore 
crossed  each  other  more  and  more ;  they  came  in  contact 
no  longer  only  in  Europe ;  they  found  each  other  in  every 
corner  of  the  world.  Even  under  the  Stuarts  this  rivalry 
had  displayed  itself  notwithstanding  the  unanimity  of  the 
sovereigns.  England  in  1668  had  joined  the  triple  alliance 
against  France,  in  opposition  to  the  wishes  of  Charles  II. ; 
and  although  in  the  next  war  (1672)  Charles  united  with 
Lewis  against  Holland,  after  two  years  the  voice  of  the 
nation  forced  him  to  break  the  alliance.  We  find,  then,  that 
at  the  time  of  the  revolution,  the  foundation  had  already 
been  laid  of  a  national  rivalry  ;  it  did  not  therefore  owe  its 
origin  entirely  to  the  policy  of  William  III. 

It  does  not  however  admit  of  a  doubt  that  the  personal 
inclinations,  and  the  position  in  which  this  monarch  was 
placed,  tended  greatly  to  increase  this  rivalry,  since  he  made 
its  maintenance  a  principal  maxim  of  his  policy.  Even  in 
his  youth  (1672)  he  stood  opposed,  as  the  champion  of  the 
Netherlands,  to  the  great  king  of  France,'  to  whom  he  bore 
a  personal  hatred,  which  was  in  turn  cherished  against  him 
by  that  monarch ;  and  from  that  moment  he  seemed  to  live 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  thwarting  Lewis,  and  became  the 
life  and  soul  of  all  the  alliances  which  were  formed  against 
him.  When  raised  to  the  throne  of  England  he  had  To  de- 
fend it  against  Lewis,  who  took  his  rival  under  his  protection. 
The  war,  hastened  as  it  was  besides  by  many  other  causes, 
became  thus  unavoidable,  and  it  wrapped  nearly  all  Europe 
in  flames,  (1689—1697,)  until  at  the  peace  of  Ryswick 
Lewis  found  it  convenient  to  acknowledge  William  as  king; 
of  England. 

which  would  lead,  if  not  to  interminable,  at  least  to  lasting  peace  in  Europe, 
It  would  be  the  geographical  separation  of  the  colonies.  This  has  been  in 
great  part  although  not  wholly  accomplished,  by  the  last  treaty  of  peace, 
which  we  shall  consider  hereafter ;  the  fortunes  of  the  Spanish  colonies  will 
perhaps  bring  about  the  rest. 

•  It  is  well  known  from  the  Memoirs  of  St.  Simon,  that  this  personal  hatred 
arose  from  the  refusal  of  William,  when  only  Prince  of  Orange,  to  accept  the 
hand  of  one  of  Lewis  s  natural  daughters,  which  was  offered  him  by  her 
father.  We  should  be  careful,  however,  not  to  lay  too  much  stress  upon  such 
anecdotes,  even  when  true.  The  result  would  have  been  the  same  had  this 
circumstance  never  occurred. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


393 


(i 


There  is  probably  no  other  example  of  a  rivalry  between 
two  civilized  nations  in  which  so  many  causes  of  jealousy 
are  to  be  found,  as  those  upon  which  that  between  England 
and  France  was  founded.  The  interests  of  independence, 
of  religion,  and  of  commerce,  were  involved  in  an  extraor- 
dinary manner  with  those  of  the  sovereigns  themselves.  Is 
it  then  to  be  wondered  at,  that  such  a  rivalry  should  become 
at  the  same  time  both  violent  and  lasting  ?  But  it  is  time  to 
follow  out  the  consequences  which  it  had  on  the  subsequent 
continental  interests  of  Britain;  we  shall  thus  trace  the 
formation  of  many  of  the  threads  on  which  was  wrought  the 
whole  web  of  the  subsequent  politics  of  Europe. 

Alliances  on  the  continent  were,  under  the  existing  cir- 
cumstances, absolutely  necessary  to  England.  It  was  a 
struggle  with  a  power  which  at  sea  was  about  equal  to  her 
in  strength,  but  which  on  land  was  infinitely  superior ;  and 
which  necessarily  remained  superior  until  it  was  discovered 
that  an  addition  to  the  standing  army  was  not  at  the  same 
time  a  diminution  of  national  freedom.  England  therefore 
dared  not  enter  into  a  contest  with  France  alone ;  and  when 
this  idea  had  once  gained  ground,  it  continued  even  in 
times  when  its  justice  might  well  have  been  disputed,  and 
thus  became  the  governing  principle  of  the  continental 
policy  of  Great  Britain. 

An  alliance  therefore  with  that  state  which  as  a  military 
power  maintained  the  next  rank  to  France,  was  an  unavoid- 
able consequence;  and  hence  arose  the  close  connexion 
between  England  and  Austria,  a  connexion  which  may  be 
considered  as  the  true  foundation  of  the  British  continental 
interests,  and  which,  although  for  a  time  dissolved,  was  soon 
again  renewed,  and  will  probably  be  from  time  to  time  re- 
newed as  long  as  the  rivalry  between  England  and  France 
continues  to  exist.  As  long  as  a  branch  of  the  house  of 
Hapsburg  reigned  in  Spain,  this  connexion  could  not  but 
lead  to  an  alliance' with  that  country,  and  this  the  rather  as 
the  plans  of  Lewis  were  constantly  directed  against  the 
Spanish  Netherlands.  But  yet  more  important  was  the  in- 
fluence of  the  British  policy  upon  the  United  Netherlands, 
now  that  their  hereditary  stadtholder  was  at  the  same  time 
king  of  England ;  and  hence  arose  the  great  alliance  of 
Vienna,  (1689,)  in  which  England  for  the  first  time  dis- 


P 


[ 


394 


RISE   OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


played  in  full  force  her  vast  influence  upon  the  affairs  of  the 
continent.  This  alliance,  and  the  ensuing  war  down  to  the 
treaty  of  Ryswick  in  1697,  gave  to  the  politics  of  western 
Europe  that  character  by  which  they  were  afterwards  pecu- 
liarly distinguished.  The  alliance  of  the  naval  powers 
(England  and  Holland)  with  Austria,  against  that  power 
which  had  become  equally  formidable  on  land  and  sea, 
forms  the  groundwork  of  the  system,  and  the  interests  of 
these  states  so  clearly  demands  such  an  alliance,  that  po- 
litical sophistry  will  scarcely  be  able  to  prevail  against  it. 
All  the  states  of  the  continent,  which  had  learned  by  expe- 
rience that  Lewis  was  desirous  of  increasing  his  power  at 
their  expense,  if  not  of  destroying  them  entirely,  could  not 
but  see  that  this  was  the  most  natural  means  of  defence ; 
and  it  is  clear  from  what  we  have  above  said,  that  the  same 
applied  to  England. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  resulted  from  the  geogra- 
phical situation  of  these  states  that  the  Spanish,  afterwards 
Austrian  Netherlands,  became  the  centre  of  this  alliance. 
They  were,  in  the  first  place,  the  chief  aim  of  the  policy  of 
France  :  in  the  next,  they  were  the  connecting  link  between 
England  and  her  continental  allies.  They  formed  the  pas- 
sage into  Germany,  the  means  of  junction  with  the  allied 
armies,  and  the  conductor,  so  to  say,  by  which  the  war 
might  be  drawn  off  from  the  principal  countries  of  the  Aus- 
trian monarchy ;  on  their  independence  rested  that  of  the 
United  Provinces  as  well  as  of  the  German  empire;  and 
with  all  these  points  was  connected  the  balance  of  political 
power  in  Europe.  The  maintenance  of  the  Belgian  pro- 
vinces was  therefore  necessarily  one  of  the  leading  maxims 
of  the  continental  policy  of  England — a  maxim  in  the  sup- 
port of  which  she  has  repeatedly  and  wisely  exerted  her 
best  energies.  While  England  was  thus  connecting  herself 
on  every  side  with  the  continent,  it  could  not  but  follow 
that  several  smaller  states  should  be  drawn  into  these  ar- 
rangements. But  those  only  will  require  mention  which  were 
permanently  involved  in  them,  and  amongst  these  the  first  is 
Savoy.  In  1689  the  fatal  activity  of  Lou vois  first  compelled 
the  duke  Victor  Amadeus  II.  to  take  part  in  those  tragic 
scenes  which  were  now  repeatedly  acted  in  Europe;  and 
the  situation  and  condition  of  his  territory,  which  was  at 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


395 


once  the  gate  and  the  bulwark  of  Italy,  necessarily,  when 
that  country  became  the  scene  of  action,  gave  this  family  a 
degree  of  importance  which  the  political  talents  of  its  lead- 
ers turned  with  extraordinary  dexterity,  and  still  more 
extraordinary  good  fortune,  to  their  own  advantage.  Of  the 
remaining  states  of  Italy,  Naples  being  still  a  province, 
none  was  of  sufficient  importance  to  make  an  alliance  with 
them  possible ;  and  with  the  individual  princes  of  Germany 
it  was  not  necessary  to  be  at  any  pains,  as  the  whole  body 
generally  followed  its  chief,  and  each  of  the  great  Austrian 
wars  became  a  war  of  the  empire. 

By  means  of  the  war  of  1689  therefore  the  relations  in 
which  England  stood  to  the  continent  were  first  organized ; 
and  in  her  subsequent  policy  she  merely  continued  to  build 
on  the  foundation  which  was  here  laid.  A  proof  of  this  is 
to  be  found  in  the  Spanish  war  of  succession,  which  followed 
only  four  years  afterwards.  By  the  negotiations  which  pre- 
ceded it,  England  had  become  deeply  involved  in  conti- 
nental politics,  and  even  if  Lewis  XIV.  had  not  forced  her 
to  war  by  recognising  the  pretender,  contrary  to  the  provi- 
sions of  the  treaty  of  Ryswick,  she  would  scarcely  have  been 
able  to  preserve  her  neutrality.  A  contest  was  pending, 
upon  the  result  of  which,  according  to  the  principles  of  the 
poHcy  of  that  time,  whether  just  or  not,  depended  the  main- 
tenance of  the  political  balance  in  Europe. 

The  connexions  of  England  with  the  continent  continued 
then  during  this  war  the  same  as  during  the  last,  with  the 
exception  of  the  altered  circumstances  of  Spain ;  although 
their  author  did  not  live  to  see  its  commencement.^  But 
the  unaltered  policy  of  his  successor,  Anne,  notwithstanding 
the  change  which  took  place  in  the  influential  persons  at 
court,  affords  the  clearest  proof  that,  in  spite  of  the  clamour 
of  parties  during  the  reign  of  William  III.,  the  interests 
which  he  had  pursued  were  not  merely  his  own,  but  those 
of  the  nation.  The  alliance  with  Austria  was  the  great  link 
on  which  all  the  others  depended,  since  not  only  the  repub- 
lic of  the  United  Netherlands,  although  it  had  abolished  the 
dignity  of  stadtholder,  persevered  in  its  previous  policy,  but 
the  Germanic  empire  also  took  an  active  part  in  the  war, 
and  the  duke  of  Savoy,  although  at  first  on  the  side  of 

'  William  III.  died  March  19th,  1702. 


396 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


France,  was  soon  won  over  by  the  allies.  But  still  the  war 
of  succession  in  Spain  modified  the  British  continental  po- 
licy in  more  than  one  respect,  and  at  the  same  time  in- 
creased its  strength  and  its  sphere  of  action  ;  and  it  is 
necessary  that  these  points  should  be  more  closely  examined. 

1st,  The  old  connexions,  especially  that  with  Austria, 
were  greatly  strengthened.  The  confederacy  found  (what 
alone  can  render  any  alliance  formidable)  chiefs  who  were 
capable  of  holding  it  together  and  infusing  life  and  spirit 
into  it.  Where  can  history  produce  a  duumvirate  like  that 
of  Eugene  and  Marlborough  ?  And  when  did  any  thing  but 
success  stamp  such  an  alliance  with  durability?  It  is  true 
the  alliance  fell  to  pieces  towards  the  end  of  the  war,  but 
still  it  is  an  example  without  parallel  that  it  should  have 
lasted  so  long ;  and  even  that  the  dissolution  was  but  tem- 
porary, and  the  tie  was  renewed  as  soon  as  circumstances 
demanded  it. 

2nd,  One  lasting  consequence  of  that  war  was  the  close 
connexion  with  Portugal :  while  this  state  trembled,  and  not 
without  cause,  for  its  independence,  when  a  Bourbon  as- 
cended the  throne  of  Spain,  and  therefore  sought  to  unite 
itself  with  the  allies,  they  on  the  other  hand  required  its  as- 
sistance in  order  to  play  their  game  with  a  probability  of 
success,  and  to  drive  Phihp  of  Anjou  from  his  throne.  This 
connexion,  however,  springing  as  it  did  from  the  circum- 
stances of  the  moment,  would  have  been  but  transitory,  had 
it  not  been  strengthened  by  other  ties.  This  was  done  by 
means  of  the  commercial  treaty  of  the  British  minister, 
Methuen,  (1705,)  which  granted  a  free  entrance  into  Por- 
tugal for  British  manufactures,  especially  woollens  ;  and  for 
Portuguese  wines  into  England.  It  is  well  known  that 
scarcely  any  other  treaty  has  been  so  advantageous  to 
England,  owing  to  the  extraordinary  wealth  which  this  mar- 
ket had  derived  at  that  period  from  the  newly-discovered 
gold  mines  of  Brazil.  Thus  by  the  interweaving  of  political 
with  commercial  interests,  arose  that  connexion  between 
England  and  Portugal  which  has  not  been  broken  by  the 
most  violent  storms  of  revolution. 

3rd,  In  the  war  of  the  Spanish  succession,  England  first 
employed  the  granting  of  subsidies.  The  wealth  of  England 
and  the  financial  system  founded  by  the  creation  of  the 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


397 


national  debt,  and  the  means  thus  afforded  of  obtaining  un- 
limited credit  under  William  III.,  must  sooner  or  later  have 
given  rise  to  this,  even  were  it  not  the  character  of  great 
commercial  nations  to  carry  on  their  military  enterprises,  if 
they  should  be  engaged  in  such  to  any  extent,  more  or  less 
with  the  aid  of  foreign  troops  received  into  their  pay.  Whe- 
ther this  be  done  by  subsidies  or  by  fairly  taking  troops  into 
pay,  the  system  remains  in  its  principal  features  the  same,  and 
the  consequences  must  be  the  same  also.  The  Spanish  war, 
continued  as  it  unnecessarily  was  by  the  breaking  off  of  the 
negotiations  in  1709,  gave  a  dangerous  example  of  the  facility 
with  which  such  wars  may  be  protracted  if  the  interest  of 
the  party  at  the  helm  of  state  demands  it ;  but  experience 
has  also  shown  that  the  injury  must  necessarily  recoil  upon 
England  itself. 

4th,  The  conditions  of  the  peace  of  Utrecht  necessarily 
strengthened  the  continental  relations  of  England,  without 
however,  except  in  the  case  of  Spain,  materially  altering 
them.  This  was  occasioned  partly  by  the  resignation  by 
Spain  of  her  European  provinces,  partly  by  the  acquisitions 
which  England  made  in  America.  The  Spanish  Nether- 
lands now  became  the  property  of  Austria,  which  thus  be- 
came the  natural  ally  of  England ;  and  when  the  Italian 
possessions  were  given  up,  partly  to  Austria,  partly  to  Sar- 
dinia, new  points  of  connexion  arose  between  these  states 
and  England,  who  had  already  by  the  possession  of  Gibraltar 
and  Minorca  gained  a  firm  footing  in  the  Mediterranean. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  conditions  of  the  treaty  of  Assiento 
with  Spain,  and  the  acquisition  of  Nova  Scotia  in  North 
America,  scattered  the  seeds  of  future  wars ;  which  however 
did  not  spring  up  until  the  following  period. 

From  what  has  preceded,  then,  we  conclude  that,  when 
the  house  of  Hanover  ascended  the  British  throne,  the  con- 
tinental interests  of  England  were,  in  their  leading  features, 
already  fixed.  The  rivalry  with  France  was  the  foundation 
on  which  they  were  built ;  and  as  long  as  this  lasts  it  will 
remain  essentially  the  same,  whatever  temporary  changes 
may  take  place.  The  friendly  connexion  which  was  formed 
under  George  I.,  seemed  for  a  time  to  put  an  end  to  the 
rivalry  ;  but  it  was  only  the  consequence  of  a  family  dispute 
of  the  Bourbons,  and  with  the  dispute  itself  it  ceased  ;  as 
will  appear  in  the  consideration  of  the  next  period. 


4 


398 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


FIFTH  PERIOD. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


399 


FROM  THE  ACCESSION  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  HANOVER  TO 
THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION,  I7I4— 1789. 

The  continental  relations  of  England  under  the  house  of 
Hanover  became  still  closer  and  more  complicated  than  they 
had  previously  been.  Our  inquiry  will  therefore  lead  us 
more  deeply  into  the  general  system  of  Europe,  and  becomes 
proportionally  more  difficult,  although  at  the  same  time  more 
instructive;  nay,  perhaps  we  may  add,  more  meritorious 
also,  since  this  whole  period  of  British  history,  however  rich 
in  materials,  has  not  as  yet  found  an  historian  worthy  of  it. 
Although  therefore  what  may  here  be  offered  can  only  serve 
as  a  brief  introduction  to  such  a  work,  we  shall  still  find  it 
worth  while  to  follow  the  history  of  this  nation  in  one  of  its 
most  important  aspects,  during  this  its  most  prosperous  pe- 
riod ;  and  perhaps  at  the  same  time  to  combat  some  preju- 
dices which  have  arisen  from  partial  views  of  the  subject. 

I  believe  that  I  have  sufficiently  established  in  the  first 
half  of  this  inquiry,  that  when  George  I.  ascended  (1714) 
the  British  throne,  the  principal  ties  between  England  and 
the  continent  were  already  in  existence.  These  however 
were  now  strengthened  and  some  new  ones  added  to  them. 
The  first  and  most  important  of  these  is  generally  considered 
to  be  the  circumstance,  that  the  family  which  ascended  the 
throne  of  England  was  possessed  of  hereditary  dominions  on 
the  continent.  That  it  is  a  totally  false  opinion  which  attri- 
butes to  this  the  main  foundation  of  the  foreign  policy  of 
England,  is  clear  from  what  has  preceded ;  it  certainly  had 
its  influence,  exaggerated  as  this  has  been  at  particular 
periods  by  British  authors,  but  an  impartial  estimate  of  its 
extent  requires  a  more  minute  consideration  of  the  political 
situation  of  George  I.  at  his  succession,  as  well  in  reference 
to  his  position  at  home,  as  in  his  relations  to  the  remainder 
of  Europe.  The  internal  position  of  England  must  at  that 
period  have  given  rise  to  closer  connexions  with  the  conti- 
nent, even  had  not  external  circumstances  led  to  the  same 
result.  Although  the  house  of  Hanover  was  called  to  the 
succession  by  the  voice  of  the  nation,  it  is  well  known  how 
divided  within  itself  the  nation  was — how  thoroughly  the 
parties  of  whig  and  tory  became  political  factions,  and 
what  fierce  convulsions  were  the  consequence.     There  was 


k 


a  pretender,  with  numerous  adherents  at  home  and  powerful 
friends  abroad.  As  long  as  he  found  foreign  support,  or 
there  was  even  a  probability  that  he  would  do  so,  it  was 
necessary  to  oppose  his  endeavours;  and  this  opposition 
brought  on  a  long  chain  of  political  connexions  with  the 
continent.  The  existence,  and  what  is  more,  the  lengthened 
existence  of  such  a  pretender,  who  at  least  might  obtain  po- 
litical influence,  and  at  particular  periods  did  actually  obtain 
it,  was  a  piece  of  signal  good  fortune  to  England  itself  as 
well  as  to  the  new  government.  The  continued  danger  kept 
the  government,  as  well  as  the  nation,  continually  on  their 
guard,  and  became  one  of  the  strongest  ties  between  them. 
However  deeply  the  conviction  might  be  impressed  upon 
the  latter  that  the  maintenance  of  their  constitution  depended 
upon  the  Protestant  succession,  the  great  mass  of  the  people 
were  still  in  need  of  something  to  remind  them  of  it ;  and 
what  could  be  better  calculated  to  secure  this  object,  than 
the  unceasing  claims  of  a  Catholic  pretender  ?  And  how- 
ever great  may  have  been  the  personal  qualities,  however 
pure  the  intentions,  and  however  strong  the  attachment  to 
the  constitution,  in  the  members  of  the  new  reigning  family, 
still  nothing  would  serve  better  than  those  very  claims,  to 
keep  it  constantly  in  their  minds,  that  it  was  through  the 
constitution,  and  for  the  constitution,  that  they  were  invest- 
ed with  their  high  dignity.  Thus  the  king  and  the  nation 
could  not  but  agree  in  considering  the  constitution  the  pal- 
ladium of  their  freedom  to  the  latter,  and  of  his  throne  to 
the  former ;  thus  the  conviction  naturally  grew  upon  them, 
that  the  interests  of  the  king  and  the  nation  were  insepar- 
ably the  same ;  thus  in  a  word  the  constitution  escaped  be- 
ing considered  a  dead  letter,  and  was  impressed  upon  the 
hearts  of  the  people  and  their  rulers.  But  external  cir- 
cumstances were  of  yet  more  influence  in  strengthening 
the  continental  policy  of  England,  by  which  it  became 
deeply  involved  in  the  affairs  both  of  eastern  and  western 
Europe. 

The  west  of  Europe  had  just  emerged  from  a  contest  of 
thirteen  years,  in  which  the  Spanish  monarchy  was  the  stake. 
This  war  had  been  sustained  by  an  alliance,  the  soul  of 
which  was  England,  and  which  drooped  and  ended  soon 
after  England  retired.  The  peace,  in  which  she  had  secured 


400 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


401 


to  herself  important  advantages,  however  trifling  they  may 
have  appeared  in  the  eyes  of  the  whigs,  had  been  her  work 
and  its  maintenance  was  no  less  her  interest.  But  hardly  ever 
was  there  a  more  insecure  peace  than  that  of  Utrecht ;  for 
between  the  two  principal  parties — Spain  and  Austria- 
there  was  no  stipulation  of  peace,  even  though  the  distance 
between  their  dominions  and  the  position  of  the  remainder 
of  Europe  had  really  caused  a  cessation  of  hostilities.     The 
loss  of  her  European  dependences  in  Italy  and  the  Nether- 
lands to  Austria  and  Savoy,  was  not  forgotten  by  Spain, 
and  she  was  only  waiting  for  an  opportunity  of  seizing  them 
again.  The  interests  therefore  of  England  and  Austria  coin- 
cided in  the  maintenance  of  peace ;  and  the  connexion  be- 
tween them  consequently  continued  and  was  strengthened. 
But  the  circumstances  which  then  took  place  in  the  house 
of  Bourbon,  procured  for  England  another  ally  on  the  con- 
tinent, and  that  in  a  nation  against  which  all  her  powers  had 
been  but  a  short  time  before  exerted,  namely,  France.  Since 
the  death  of  Lewis  XIV.  (1715)  affairs  under  the  regency 
of  the  duke  of  Orleans  took  a  very  different  turn  from  what 
had  been  expected.  Instead  of  the  close  connexion  between 
the  Bourbons  of  France  and  those  of  Spain  which  had  been 
looked  for,  rivalry  and  strife  arose  which  ultimately  led  to 
war.     The  weak  health  of  the  youthful  king  of  France  ex- 
cited the  expectation  of  a  speedy  vacancy  of  the  throne  of 
France.    Who  in  this  case  was  to  be  his  successor  ?  the  re- 
gent, or  the  king  of  Spain,  who  had  resigned  for  himself 
and  his  descendants  all  claims  upon  the  French  throne  ?  The 
example  of  Lewis  XIV.  however  had  shown  how  far  such  a 
resignation  was  binding.     But  it  did  not  appear  probable 
that  the  regent  would  suffer  the  sceptre  to  be  wrested  from 
him  if  the  attempt  was  delayed  till  the  death  of  the  young 
king.    It  seemed  much  easier  at  once  to  deprive  him  of  the 
regency ;  and  this  idea  suggested  itself  the  more  readily  to 
the  Spanish  minister  Alberoni,  since  it  agreed  with  his  other 
plans  for  recovering  the  provinces  which  had  been  yielded 
to  Austria  and  Savoy,  (especially  those  in  Italy,)  and  even 
for  overthrowing  the  whole  political  system  of  Europe,  by 
the  elevation  of  the  pretender  to  the  throne  of  England. 
But  the  attempt  to  raise  a  conspiracy  against  their  regent 
was  betrayed  and  failed,  and  the  recommencement  of  hosti- 


lities between  Spain  and  France  (1719)  was  the  conse- 
quence of  its  discovery. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  was  natural  that  a  con- 
nexion should  be  formed  between  England  and  the  regent; 
his  interest  and  that  of  England  were  alike  involved  in  the 
maintenance  of  the  established  order  of  things  in  Europe,  as 
settled  at  the  peace  of  Utrecht.  He  was  compelled,  in  order 
to  provide  for  his  own  security,  to  oppose  the  plans  of  Spain. 
On  the  other  hand,  however  extraordinary  it  might  seem 
that  England  and  France  should  be  allied,  it  is  easy  to  per- 
ceive that  no  material  alteration  had  taken  place  in  the 
policy  of  England.  Spain,  under  Alberoni,  wished  to  rule 
as  France  had  done  under  Lewis  XIV. ;  England  was 
therefore  guided  by  the  same  interest  in  offering  a  strong 
opposition  to  the  plans  of  Spain,  as  that  which  had  formerly 
engaged  her  in  war  with  France.  But  other  causes  were 
added  in  reference  to  Spain,  founded  upon  commercial  ad- 
vantages, which  induced  England  to  oppose  that  country, 
and  (for  it  amounted  to  the  same  thing)  to  make  the  observ- 
ance of  the  conditions  of  the  peace  of  Utrecht  the  aim  of 
her  policy ;  and  these  were  the  great  concessions  made  by 
Spain  in  the  treaty  of  Assiento.  By  the  provisions  of  this 
treaty,  England  obtained  the  right  of  furnishing  Spanish 
America  with  negro  slaves  for  thirty  years,  and  of  sending 
annually  a  vessel  of  500  tons  to  the  great  commercial  fair 
of  Portobello.^ 

These  privileges  could  not  fail,  on  account  of  the  smug- 
gling to  which  they  gave  rise,  of  securing  to  England  the 
greater  part  of  the  trade  of  Spanish  America ;  and  in  pro- 
portion to  the  increase  of  profit,  the  British  government 
became  more  anxious  to  insure  the  continuance  of  them,  by 
maintaining  the  peace.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  describe 
the  events,  which  after  the  year  1714  caused  the  fall  of  Al- 
beroni, and  upon  it  the  accession  of  Spain  to  the  quadruple 
alliance,  and  thus  led  to  the  attainment  of  this  object. 

Thus  it  becomes  evident  that  the  participation  of  England 
in  the  affairs  of  western  Europe  during  the  first  half  of  the 
reign  of  George  I.,  arose  not  merely  from  the  personal  in- 

'  The  fair  of  Portobello  was  at  that  time  one  of  the  most  important  in  the 
world,  as  at  it  the  European  goods  required  by  the  South  American  provinces 
of  Spain  were  exchanged  for  the  gold  and  silver  of  Peru. 

2  D 


^S 


I 


40g 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


terests  of  the  monarch,  but  also  from  those  of  the  nation. 
At  that  time  there  were  as  yet  no  designs  upon  the  domi- 
nion of  the  sea ;  the  only  objects  aimed  at  were  the  security 
of  the  balance  of  power — the  confirmation  of  the  advantao-es 
which  had  been  gained  by  England — and  the  maintenance 
of  the  peace  of  Europe.  The  colonies  however  now  began 
to  exert  an  influence  upon  continental  politics,  which  must 
not  hereafter  remain  unnoticed. 

But  while  the  British  cabinet  was  thus  active  in  the  west, 
new  connexions  arose  in  the  east.  The  great  war  which 
had  laid  waste  the  northern  part  of  this  quarter  of  the  globe 
for  one-and- twenty  years  (1700 — 172 1)  was  not  without  its 
influence  on  England.  George  I.  has  been  represented  in 
almost  all  the  histories  of  England,  as  having  upon  this  oc- 
casion exchanged  the  king  for  the  elector  ;  and  for  the  sake 
of  his  German  territories  permitted  himself  to  be  mixed  up, 
as  king  of  England,  in  the  strife  which  took  place.  We 
ought  therefore  to  attempt  what  there  is  no  longer  any 
reason  to  prevent,  viz.  an  impartial  consideration  of  the 
question,  how  far  the  interests  of  the  English  nation  required 
this  interference  of  the  king  ?  how  far  the  interests  of  the 
nation  were  the  same  as  those  of  the  electorate  ?  and  how 
far  the  consequences  were  advantageous  or  the  reverse  to 
Great  Britain? 

It  has  already  been  shown  that  England  had  long  been 
no  indifferent  spectator  of  the  proceedings  of  the  northern 
powers.  The  trade  in  the  Baltic  was  the  cause  of  this  ;  and 
after  it  became  considerable,  the  English  could  remain  as 
little  indifferent  upon  the  subject  as  the  Dutch,  with  whom 
they  shared  it,  though  at  that  time  very  unequally.  Besides, 
the  geographical  situation  of  the  Baltic,  which  can  only  be 
reached  by  narrow  straits,  one  only  of  which,  the  Sound,  is 
perfectly  navigable,  made  it  by  no  means  a  matter  of  indif- 
ference in  whose  possession  this  passage,  and  with  it  the 
means  of  entering  this  sea,  should  be. 

If  any  single  power  obtained  the  dominion,  if,  as  had 
more  than  once  happened  in  the  times  of  the  Swedish  mon- 
archy, any  single  state  arose  with  such  power  as  either  ac- 
tually to  close  that  entrance,  or  by  the  imposition  of  heavy 
tolls  virtually  to  effect  the  same  object,  that  branch  of  the 
commerce  and  navigation  of  both  England  and  Holland 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


403 


could  not  but  become  in  the  highest  degree  precarious.    The 
active  interference  of  England  in  the  affairs  of  the  North 
commenced  therefore  during  the   period  of  the  Swedish 
dominion,  when  that  state  began  to  menace  Denmark ;  and 
the  maintenance  of  a  certain  balance,  or  at  least  the  preserv- 
ation of  bott  powers,  was  the  object  which  this  interference 
had  in  view.     It  is  true  that,  besides  negotiation,  England, 
owing  to  her  situation,  had  no  means  of  giving  succour  ex- 
cept by  her  fleets ;  but  the  position  of  the  two  states,  which 
made  it  necessary  that  a  war  between  them,  if  undertaken  in 
earnest,  should  be  carried  on  by  sea  as  well  as  land,  ren- 
dered this  kind  of  assistance  very  important,  and  might  even 
do  what  in  naval  expeditions  very  rarely  is  the  case,  viz. 
make  it  decide  the  event.    The  internal  disturbances  which 
distracted  England  towards  the  close  of  the  thirty  years' 
war,  rendered  an  active  intervention  in  favour  of  Denmark, 
then  menaced  by  Sweden,  impossible.     Denmark  however 
was  relieved  by  the  peace  of  Bromsebroe  (1645).  It  was  in 
Cromwell's  time  however  that  attention  was  first  directed  to 
these  affairs  :  nay,  as  we  have  previously  shown,  his  designs 
went  even  to  the  acquisition  by  England  of  possessions  on 
the  shores  of  the  Baltic.  When  Charles  Gustavus  of  Sweden 
threatened  the  total  annihilation  of  Denmark  (1657)  Eng- 
land strenuously  took  her  part,  and  procured  the  peace  of 
Roschild  (Feb.  26,  1658) ;  and  when  that  monarch  sud- 
denly broke  the  conditions  and  besieged  Copenhagen,  not 
only  did  England  join  the  confederacy  at  the  Hague,  but 
English  vessels  accompanied  the  Dutch  fleet  to  the  Baltic, 
and  by  a  victory  over  the  Swedish  fleet  contributed  much  to 
the  rehef  of  Copenhagen  (1659).  The  trade  with  the  Baltic 
and  the  maintenance  of  the  previous  tolls  at  the  Sound,  are 
the  causes  assigned  for  this  interference  in  the  treaty  which 
was  then  made.^ 

The  change  which  shortly  afterwards  was  effected  in 
England  by  the  restoration  of  the  king,  not  only  did  not 
diminish,  but  even  increased  the  share  which  England  had 
taken  in  these  aflfairs.  The  trade  with  the  Baltic  was  con- 
sidered to  be  of  such  importance,  that  it  was  regulated  by 
new  conditions  with  Sweden  as  well  as  Denmark,  and  these 
continue  to  this  day  to  be  the  groundwork  of  the  mutual 

'  Vide  ScHMAUSS  Einlevtung  zuder  Staatswissenschaft,  vol.  ii.  p.  129. 

2d2 


404 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


commerce  of  these  countries.  The  treaty  with  Sweden  was 
concluded  by  Charles  11.  (1661)  with  the  regency  during 
the  minority  of  Charles  XL,  and  altered  in  sonle  particulars 
in  the  year  1666  ;  that  with  Denmark  not  till  the  year  1671.^ 
In  both  these  treaties  it  was  especially  provided  what  arti- 
cles should  be  considered  contraband,  in  order  to  avoid  any 
interruption  to  the  trade  during  times  of  war.  But  the  at- 
tention of  England  was  now  especially  engaged  by  the  con- 
stant endeavours  of  Holland  to  obtain  the  whole  of  the  trade ; 
and  owing  to  this,  the  relations  in  which  the  two  states 
stood  to  each  other,  usually  had  their  influence  upon  the 
North.  A  clear  proof  of  this  is  afforded  by  the  negotiations 
which  took  place  during  the  war,  (1665 — 1667,)  which  was 
ended  by  the  treaty  of  Breda.  Holland  then  gained  over 
Denmark  as  well  as  Sweden,  and  the  entrance  into  the 
Baltic  was  to  have  been  entirely  forbidden  to  England.* 
But  the  peace  of  Breda  (1667)  which  soon  ensued,  and  the 
new  and  more  important  occurrences  in  western  Europe, 
when  Lewis  XIV.  commenced  his  wars  in  the  Netherlands, 
altered  these  political  relations  and  prevented  any  conse- 
quences which  the  above  negotiations  might  have  had. 

The  ambitious  designs  of  Lewis  extended  themselves  even 
to  the  North  ;  and  when  France  succeeded  in  winning  over 
Sweden,  Denmark  also  followed  ;  but  the  war  did  not  be- 
come a  naval  one,  and  had  no  reference  to  commerce.  It 
will  only  be  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  the  internal  affairs 
of  England  under  Charles  II.,  James  II.,  and  William  HI., 
in  order  to  account  for  the  circumstance  that  her  policy  was 
less  frequently  directed  towards  the  North  during  these  reigns. 

But  the  great  northern  war,  which,  after  continuing 
twenty  years,  entirely  changed  the  relations  of  northern  Eu- 
rope, could  not  fail  of  engaging  the  attention  of  England. 
The  proof  of  this  is  found  in  the  peace  of  Travendal,  (1700,) 
which  was  concluded  between  Sweden  and  Denmark  through 
the  mediation  of  England,  and  guaranteed  by  her.  The 
war  of  the  Spanish  succession,  which  immediately  afterwards 
set  the  whole  of  western  Europe  in  flames,  and  'which  Eng- 
land carried  on  by  land  with  a  degree  of  vigour  and  good 

'  They  are  to  be  found  in  Schmauss  Corpus  Juris  Gentium,  vol.  ii.  dd.  753 
and  2328.  ^^ 

*  Result  of  the  treaty  concluded  at  the  Hague  between  Holland  and  Den- 
mark, Feb.  II,  1666.— Schmauss,  Staatswissenschafl,  vol.  ii.  p.  1/8. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


405 


fortune  never  before  witnessed,  made  it  impossible  that  she 
could  interfere  with  energy  in  the  affairs  of  the  North.  She 
contented  herself  with  watching  the  proceedings  of  the 
Swedish  hero,  and  was  only  anxious  lest  it  should  enter  into 
his  head  to  become  the  ally  of  France,  and  strike  in  with 
the  sword  in  her  behalf  But  when  by  the  peace  of  Utrecht 
(1713)  she  was  released  from  this  contest,  it  could  not  but 
be  expected  that  she  should  again  become  active  in  that 
quarter. 

But  it  was  no  easy  question  for  England  to  determine 
what  side  she  should  put  herself  on.  All  the  former  rela- 
tions had  been  changed  ;  Sweden  was  exhausted,  and  while 
Russia  was  rapidly  developing  her  strength,  the  balance  be- 
tween Sweden  and  Denmark  was  no  longer  the  only  thing 
to  be  considered.  But  in  what  point  of  view  was  England 
to  regard  this  growth  of  Russia  in  reference  to  her  own  in- 
terests ?  On  the  one  side  it  could  not  be  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence to  British  policy,  that  a  power  should  be  forming  itself 
in  the  North,  which  not  only  threatened  the  independence 
and  existence  of  all  the  other  states,  but  was  even  directly 
bent  upon  becoming  a  great  naval  force,  and  thus  grasping 
the  dominion  of  the  Baltic.  On  the  other  hand  it  required 
no  great  foresight  to  perceive,  more  or  less  clearly,  the  ad- 
vantages which  would  result  to  England  from  the  civiliza- 
tion of  Russia.  An  acquaintance  with  the  arts  and  the  wants 
of  luxury  in  a  state  of  such  immense  extent,  laid  open  an  in- 
exhaustible market  to  the  manufacturing  and  trading  nations 
of  Europe ;  and  although  it  could  not  then  be  foreseen  what 
a  preponderance  England  would  afterwards  obtain  by  the 
decay  of  Dutch  commerce,  it  was  very  clear  that  she  could 
not  be  wholly  shut  out  from  these  advantages.  But  the 
measures  adopted  did  not,  as  it  appears,  proceed  from  such 
general  considerations.  No  care  was  taken  of  the  future, 
and  temporary  relations  only  were  looked  to.  Single  oppor- 
tunities were  seized  as  they  presented  themselves,  and  thus 
England  became  involved  in  the  question  without  having 
any  fixed  system  to  guide  herself  by.  The  extension  of  the 
northern  war  into  Germany,  in  which  George  I.  became 
concerned,  as  elector  of  Hanover,  gave  the  first  occasion  of 
interference. 

Sweden  had  been  deprived  by  her  enemies  of  almost  all 


406 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


her  German  possessions,  and  of  these  more  particularly,  the 
duchies  of  Bremen  and  Verden,  which  she  had  obtained  by 
the  peace  of  Westphalia,  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
Danes.  Denmark  sold  these  territories  to  Hanover,  in  a 
treaty  which  was  signed  June  26th,  1715.  As  Sweden 
would  not  recognise  this  sale,  nay  more,  as  Charles  XII. 
made  it  no  secret  that  his  whole  efforts  were  directed  to- 
wards regaining  as  far  as  possible  the  supremacy  in  northern 
Germany,  the  implication  of  Hanover  in  the  northern  war 
would  have  been  a  natural  consequence,  even  if  it  had  not 
been  expressly  stipulated  in  the  treaty  that  George  I.  should 
declare  war  against  Sweden.'  This  he  did  in  his  character 
of  elector  of  Hanover,  and  it  was  only  in  this  character  that 
he  carried  it  on  by  land ;  but  at  the  same  time  a  squadron 
of  eight  English  men  of  war  was  sent  to  the  Sound,  which 
joined  the  Danish  fleet.^  It  was  not  without  cause  that 
Charles  XII.  complained  of  this  last  step,  which  led  however 
to  no  important  results ;  nor  did  he,  in  the  bitter  hatred 
which  he  bore  to  George  I.,  distinguish  between  the  king 
and  the  elector,  but  sought  his  revenge  by  no  less  formid- 
able means  that  a  revolution  in  England  in  favour  of  the 
pretender ;  and  this  his  minister.  Baron  Gorz,  actually  plan- 
ned, but  was  unable  to  execute. 

In  the  mean  while  the  great  impediments  which  arose  to 
the  commerce  of  the  Baltic  during  the  war,  afforded  Eng- 
land opportunities  for  complaint.  No  power  ever  carried 
commercial  restrictions  against  his  enemies  so  far  as  Charles 
XII.  did  in  his  regulations."  It  is  true  he  had  extraordinary 
inducements  to  such  a  course.  It  was  according  to  the  ex- 
isting regulations  his  chief  interest  by  all  means  to  prevent 
Russia  from  excelling  him  as  a  naval  force ;  and  yet  it  was 
to  this  that  Peter  especially  devoted  himself;  and  he  was 
able  as  early  as  1716  to  make  his  appearance  in  the  Baltic 
with  a  fleet  superior  to  that  of  Sweden.  The  neutral  pow- 
ers, and  especially  Holland,  assisted  him  in  many  ways. 
The  great  advantage  to  be  gained  by  it  induced  them  not 
only  to  furnish  him  with  all  other  necessaries  which  he  re- 

'  The  state  papers  are  to  be  found  in  MSmoires  de  Lamherti,  vol.  ix.  p.  229. 
2  The  British  admiral  put  himself  in  those  days  under  the  orders  of  the 
Danish  commander.     Such  are  the  changes  which  occur ! 
"  See  his  edicts  of  Feb.  8,  and  Dec.  19,  1715.     Lamberti,  vol.  ix.  p.  228. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


407 


quired,  but  even  to  supply  vessels  completely  equipped,  and 
which  could  be  used  as  ships  of  war.  On  this  were  founded 
the  severe  measures  of  Charles,  which  were  directed  in  the 
first  place  against  the  Dutch,  but  which  fell  also  upon  the 
English,  and  would  almost  have  annihilated  their  commerce 
with  the  Baltic  had  they  not  protected  it  by  armed  vessels. 
The  interest  of  George  I.  as  elector  of  Hanover,  was  there- 
fore not  the  only  cause  which  induced  him  to  adopt 
measures  against  Charles,  for  he  had  grounds  of  complaint 
also  in  his  character  of  king  of  England.  Nevertheless  it  is 
the  constant  reproach  of  all  English  writers,  that  he  did  not 
distinguish  between  these  two  interests ;  but  that  the  wish 
to  preserve  the  duchies  of  Bremen  and  Verden,  by  which 
a  communication  was  opened  between  his  new  kingdom  and 
his  German  territories,  led  him  to  implicate  England  in  the 
contests  of  the  northern  states. 

It  would  not  be  difficult,  from  what  has  been  already  said, 
to  find  grounds  of  defence  for  George  I. ;  but  allowing 
every  one  to  form  his  own  judgment  upon  this  point,  there 
remains  another  ground  which  has  not  been  taken  by  any 
English  historian  with  whom  I  am  acquainted,  and  which  is 
the  most  important  of  all  in  the  determination  of  the  con- 
troversy—  I  refer  to  the  question  whether  the  interests  of 
England  or  Hanover  were  most  nearly  concerned  in  the 
acquisition  of  Bremen  and  Verden  ?  And  I  believe  it  will 
not  be  difficult  to  prove  that  the  former  were  chiefly  in- 
volved in  it. 

Hanover  certainly  gained  at  a  sufficiently  cheap  rate  two 
provinces,  one  of  little  importance,  the  other  more  so,  yet 
neither  remarkably  fertile,  except  in  those  parts  which  bor- 
der on  the  rivers.  But  then,  the  latter  of  the  two  commands 
the  entrance  into  the  two  principal  rivers,  and  consequently 
the  chief  commercial  approaches  of  northern  Germany; 
and  thus  by  its  geographical  situation  becomes  of  very  great 
importance.  By  the  electorate,  a  country  which  has  not 
one  sea-port  nor  any  commercial  town  of  moment,  which 
exports  comparatively  little,  and  the  exports  of  which,  as 
they  are  objects  which  are  not  generally  classed  among  con- 
traband commodities,  there  could  not  easily  be  found  causes 
to  interfere  with,  little  was  gained ;  but  this  made  the  ad- 
vantages to  England  all  the  greater.  From  the  time  that  the 


408 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


province  which  commands  the  mouths  of  those  streams,  and 
with  them  the  two  principal  sea-ports  of  Germany,  became 
annexed  to  the  dominions  of  her  king,  these  roads  of  com- 
merce were  permanently  open  to  England  ;  the  communi- 
cation with  Germany  no  longer  depended  on  political 
circumstances;  she  had  no  longer  any  cause  to  fear  that 
her  exports  would  be  either  excluded  from  the  continent  or 
admitted  under  the  disadvantages  of  increased  duties ;  and 
a  fair  prospect  was  opened  to  her  of  securing  the  commerce 
of  the  whole  of  northern  Germany. 

In  order  to  comprehend  the  truth  of  this,  we  must  view 
the  case  not  according  to  present  circumstances,  but  those 
of  that  time.  In  the  state  of  alienation  which  then  existed 
between  England  and  Sweden,  it  was  but  too  certain  that 
Charles  would  seize  the  first  opportunity  of  vengeance.  Let 
us  suppose  he  had  succeeded  in  recovering  himself, — and 
this,  considering  the  reconciliation  which  he  was  on  the 
point  of  effecting  with  Russia,  was  far  from  impossible, — 
and  had  regained  possession  of  his  German  territories,  would 
not  these  rivers,  as  well  as  the  entrance  into  the  Baltic,  have 
been  closed,  either  immediately  or  on  every  future  quarrel, 
and  privateers  have  been  fitted  out  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
festing that  as  well  as  the  northern  sea  ? 

But  these  advantages  must  have  appeared  the  more  im- 
portant to  England  at  that  time,  in  proportion  to  the  power 
of  the  rivals  with  whom  she  had  to  cope.  England  was  then 
far  from  having  the  greatest  share  in  the  commerce  of  Ger- 
many, especially  upon  the  Weser  and  Elbe.  The  Dutch  un- 
questionably still  retained  the  superiority.  In  order  therefore 
to  be  able  to  compete  with  them  with  a  hope  of  equalling  or 
surpassing  them,  that  acquisition  was  of  the  greatest  import- 
ance. It  would  be  easy  to  point  out  other  advantages,  such 
as  the  power  of  sending  troops  to  and  from  Germany  unim- 
peded, and  the  like,  which  were  secured  to  England,  the 
importance  of  which  depended  upon  pohtical  circumstances 
as  they  arose. 

From  all  this  I  think  it  has  been  made  clear,— and  more 
was  not  intended, — that  those  British  authors  who  make  the 
share  which  George  I.  took  in  the  affairs  of  the  North  an 
occasion  of  reproach,  embrace  a  very  narrow  view  of  the 
subject.     Still  it  remains  true,  that  he  did  not  act  on  fixed 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


409 


political  principles,  but  that  his  conduct  was  the  result  of 
circumstances  with  the  changes  of  which  he  changed  also. 
Charles  XII.  fell  in  the  trenches  ;^  his  minister,  his  friend 
and  counsellor,  was  compelled  to  ascend  the  scaffold ;  and 
with  them  was  destroyed  the  whole  fabric  of  their  policy,  at 
the  very  time  when  it  was  upon  the  point  of  completion.  It 
is  known  that  this  was  founded  upon  a  reconciliation  with 
Russia,  the  equivalent  of  which  was  to  be  obtained  at  the 
expense  of  other  enemies,  especially  of  Denmark.  The  new 
party  who  came  into  power  would  not  prosecute  this  plan, 
because  it  had  been  formed  by  Giirz,  whom  they  hated ;  but 
if  Charles  XII.  with  his  iron  arm  and  iron  determination 
was  not  able  to  maintain  himself  alone,  what  could  be  ex- 
pected from  the  government  which  succeeded  him  ?  Nothing 
therefore  remained  upon  the  rupture  with  Russia,  but  to 
seek  assistance  from  those  powers  against  whom  it  had  been 
intended  to  turn  their  whole  forces ;  and  the  first  of  these 
was  England.  The  treaty  formed  with  George  I.  as  elector 
of  Hanover,  in  which  Sweden  for  a  sum  of  money  yielded 
up  Bremen  and  Verden,  led  the  way  to  this ;  and  was 
shortly  succeeded  by  a  treaty  of  alliance^  with  England,  ex- 
pressly directed  against  Russia,  and  in  which  assistance  by 
land  as  well  as  by  sea  was  stipulated  for,  in  order  to  set 
bounds  to  the  devastating  inroads  of  the  Czar. 

If  the  consequences  of  their  political  errors  proved  so 
disastrous  to  the  Swedes,  the  change  in  the  policy  of  Eng- 
land admitted  perhaps  of  some  palliation,  on  the  ground 
that  she  wished  to  repress  the  fearful  aggrandizement  of 
Russia,  and  to  uphold  the  balance  of  power  in  the  North. 

But  if  this  was  her  object,  she  embarked  in  an  under- 
taking which  she  could  not  accomplish,  and  even  at  that 
early  period  exhibited  a  proof  how  little  she  was  able  at  any 
time  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  her  own  power,  or  to  de- 
termine the  precise  sphere  of  her  influence.  The  only  way 
in  which  she  could  injure  Russia  was  by  obstructing  for  a 
time  the  navigation  of  the  Baltic.  But  this  was  surely  not 
sufficient  to  retard  the  growth  of  its  power.  And  as  to 
maintaining  the  political  balance  in  the  North,  it  was  now, 

*  Dec.  11th,  1718  J  and  as  soon  after  as  Feb.  28,  1719,  Gorz  was  judicially 
murdered. 

^  Peace  was  concluded  with  Hanover,  Nov.  20, 1719;  and  on  Jan.  21, 1720, 
followed  the  alliance  with  England. 


410 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


411 


generally  speaking,  too  late.  Besides,  when  Russia  at  the 
peace  of  Nystadt  had  effected  the  separation  of  the  finest 
lands  on  the  Baltic  from  Sweden,  viz.  Livonia,  Esthonia, 
Ingria,  and  a  part  of  Courland,  what  support,  however  pow- 
erful, could  have  sustained  Sweden  in  a  position  to  preserve 
the  balance  of  power  against  Russia  ? 

By  the  peace  of  Nystadt  then  nothing,  it  is  true,  was  de- 
finitively settled  respecting  England ;  it  was  nevertheless 
the  foundation  of  her  continental  policy  in  the  North.  As 
the  consequences  of  this  peace  developed  themselves  slowly, 
but  on  this  account  the  more  surely,  in  the  growing  pros- 
perity of  Russia ;  as  not  only  her  exports  increased  in  con- 
sequence of  her  possessing  the  principal  port  in  the  Baltic, 
but  from  the  spread  of  European  luxury,  her  internal  con- 
sumption was  also  augmented,  so  the  conviction  that  this 
was  by  no  means  a  questionable  but  in  the  highest  degree 
an  advantageous  result  to  England,  developed  itself  more 
and  more  in  that  country  ;  the  market  for  British  manufac- 
tures becoming  thereby  so  much  the  more  extensive,  and 
the  trade  to  the  Baltic  daily  more  important.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  augmentation  of  the  British  navy  caused  in  turn 
a  proportionate  demand  abroad  for  the  materials  requisite  in 
ship-building,  especially  timber  and  hemp,  both  of  which 
the  immense  territory  of  Russia  offered  in  the  greatest  pro- 
fusion. In  a  word,  both  countries  were  becoming  every  day 
more  and  more  indispensable  to  each  other ;  not  in  prose- 
cuting a  common  war,  but  in  supplying  each  other's  wants ; 
a  bond  of  union  far  more  durable  than  any  treaties  of 
alliance. 

Under  these  relations  the  British  continental  policy  in  the 
North  necessarily  assumed  more  of  a  passive  than  an  active 
character.  The  good  understanding  between  England  and 
Russia  was  indispensable  to  both  parties ;  and  there  was 
nothing  at  that  time  which  seemed  likely  to  disturb  this 
amicable  connexion.  Even  when  the  occasional  re-action 
upon  the  north  of  Europe  of  the  political  events  of  the  west 
might  have  excited  such  apprehensions,  they  passed  away 
without  any  important  consequences.  This  state  of  things 
lasted  till  Russia  took  a  direct  and  vigorous  part,  not  only  in 
the  affairs  of  the  north  and  east,  but  also  in  those  of  the  west 
and  south  of  Europe.      This  intervention  necessarily  gave 


birth  to  some  new  features  in  the  British  continental  policy 
in  the  North,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel  of  this  inquiry. 

The  happy  influence  which  the  formation  of  the  quadruple 
alliance  produced  on  the  west  of  Europe,  had  not  only  im- 
plicated England  as  closely  as  possible  in  the  political  re- 
lations to  which  it  gave  rise,  but  one  might  even  say  that 
she  became  and  continued  the  moving  power  in  them.  The 
attempt  to  force  upon  Spain  the  acceptance  of  the  conditions 
prescribed  by  this  alliance  did  not,  it  is  true,  after  the  fall  of 
Alberoni,  re-establish  any  permanent  peace,  but  still  it  re- 
stored tranquillity  (Jan.  26,  1720);  the  points  still  in  dispute 
were  to  be  decided  at  a  general  congress.  Under  these 
circumstances  it  might  be  expected  that  England  should 
take  a  most  lively  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  continent ; 
but  yet  she  did  not  do  so  to  the  extent  anticipated. 

Political  activity  and  negotiation  had  become  a  necessary 
resource  to  George  I.  It  is  possible  that  he  was  at  first  led 
by  the  ambition  of  showing  that  it  was  not  nuerely  the  go- 
vernment of  a  small  b\it  of  a  large  state  to  which  he  had 
succeeded,  and  that  his  growing  power  enabled  him  to 
participate  in  the  direction  of  the  common  interests  of 
Europe;  but  once  deeply  involved  in  these  interests,  he 
could  not  easily  have  drawn  back  without  compromising 
both  himself  and  his  kingdom,  even  though  his  inclination 
might  have  prompted  him  to  do  so.  But  in  addition  to  this, 
at  that  very  juncture  (April,  1721)  the  reins  of  government 
were  held,  and  retained  for  twenty-one  years  in  succession, 
by  a  minister,  whose  disposition,  in  this  respect,  coincided 
with  that  of  his  master,  not  it  is  true  in  evading  the  war,  but 
in  employing  every  method  which  negotiations  and  demon- 
strations could  supply  to  avoid  it.  Such  a  course  of  policy 
might  have  been  expected  from  the  long  and  almost  uni- 
formly peaceful  administration  of  Robert  Walpole. 

The  continental  relations  of  England  always  require  to  be 
considered  in  two  points  of  view :  first,  as  regards  their  ad- 
vantageous or  pernicious  influence  on  England  itself;  and, 
secondly,  in  relation  to  the  whole  system  of  European  po- 
licy. In  the  British  cabinet  the  first  question  had  of  course 
at  all  times  a  preponderating  weight.  We  shall  therefore 
contemplate  our  subject-matter  first  of  all  in  this  aspect; 
but  nothing  shall  on  that  account  prevent  us  from  surveying 


412 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


413 


it  likewise  in  the  other,  and  from  noting  the  points  of  agree- 
ment and  difference  which  they  respectively  present. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  that  if  we  examine  the  British  poHcy 
in  the  last  years  of  George  I.,  we  are  unable  to  trace  any 
fixed  plan  of  proceeding.  An  insular  state  which  takes  an 
interest  in  the  affairs  of  continental  powers,  can  only  do  so 
by  virtue  of  a  federative  system  established  on  sound  princi- 
ples of  policy,  and  followed  up  with  firmness.  We  have 
seen  how  the  links  of  this  connexion  have  hitherto  been  con- 
centrated in  England.  But  at  the  period  of  which  we  are 
speaking,  those  links  were  so  wonderfully  complicated,  that 
the  principles  on  which  they  were  founded  seemed  to  be 
forgotten.  The  connexion  with  France  was  renewed,  that 
with  Austria  dissolved,  while  the  confederacies  in  the  North 
were  determined  by  the  influence  of  the  combinations  formed 
in  the  West.  The  ignorance  of  the  real  designs  of  the 
foreign  states,  which  we  so  often  see  occasion  to  impute  to 
the  British  cabinet,  manifested  itself  at  this  time  in  a  re- 
markable manner.  Justice,  however,  requires  us  also  to  ob- 
serve, that  the  relations  of  the  continental  powers  to  each 
other  were  not  the  less  variable  and  uncertain,  because  they 
were  for  the  most  part  determined  by  the  excitement  of  a 
personal  and  angry  hatred. 

To  this  cause  we  must  ascribe  the  wavering  policy  which 
characterized  those  times,  and  which  could  not  possibly  con- 
tinue without  exercising  some  influence  upon  England. 
Nevertheless,  in  all  the  activity  of  the  British  cabinet  at  that 
period,  we  discover  one  dominant  principle,  which  was  in 
the  highest  degree  beneficial,  not  only  to  England,  but  to 
Europe  at  large.  This  principle  was  the  maintenance  of 
peace.  The  only  question  is  whether  it  always  adopted  the 
right  method  to  secure  this  object. 

One  result  of  this  policy  was  the  congress  at  Cambray, 
which  began  to  assemble  under  the  arbitration  of  England 
and  France,  in  order  to  separate  again,  after  long  delays  and 
fruitless  negotiations,  without  any  decisive  issue.  Here  the 
old  dispute  between  Austria  and  Spain  should  have  termin- 
ated ;  the  recent  feuds  also,  especially  that  about  the  play- 
thing of  Charles  VI.,  the  Indian  company  at  Ostend,  which 
became  the  object  of  a  general  outcry*^ to  the  other  com- 
mercial states,  as  soon  as  their  highest  interests  became 


affected  by  it,  ought  to  have  been  here  laid  aside ;  in  a 
word,  the  whole  evil  should  have  been  now  rooted  out. 

But  history  no  where  affords  a  more  striking  instance  of 
the  truth,  that  large  conventions  are  generally  fruitless,  nay, 
oflen  in  the  highest  degree  prejudicial,  unless  they  are  di- 
rected by  great  men,  who  know  how  to  raise  themselves 
above  petty  passions,  and  to  view  and  treat  every  question, 
whether  great  or  small,  with  strict  regard  to  its  merits  and 
proportions.  The  voices  of  the  arbitrators  swelled  the  note 
of  discord  which  was  raised  about  the  most  trivial  circum- 
stance ;  the  passions  were  not  calmed,  but  excited  from  the 
first ;  and  the  congress  could  scarcely  have  terminated  other- 
wise than  it  did,  even  if  other  circumstances  had  not  inter- 
vened to  dissolve  it. 

It  is  melancholy  to  observe  how  much  the  politics  of 
almost  the  whole  of  Europe  were,  at  that  time,  determined 
by  the  proposed,  though  ineffectually  proposed,  marriage  of 
a  child ;  and  how  little  was  wanting  to  renew  the  flames 
of  a  general  war.  A  Spanish  princess,  then  just  twelve 
months  old,  was  fixed  upon  by  the  quadruple  alliance,  for 
the  consort  of  Lewis  XV.,  and  had  been  sent  to  Paris,  where 
she  was  brought  up.  The  Duke  of  Bourbon,  the  minister  of 
France,  had,  however,  private  grounds  for  wishing  a  speedy 
consummation  of  the  marriage  of  the  young  prince,  which, 
owing  to  the  age  of  the  princess,  could  scarcely  have  been 
brought  about  in  less  than  ten  years.  He  was,  therefore, 
anxious  to  procure  for  Lewis  a  consort  of  a  marriageable 
age,  which  he  found  in  the  daughter  of  the  ex-king  of  Po- 
land, Stanislaus  Lescinsky ;  and  the  Spanish  princess  was 
sent  back.  This  event,  which  could,  under  no  circumstances, 
be  otherwise  than  mortifying,  produced  the  highest  degree 
of  rancour  and  resentment  in  the  haughty  mind  of  Elizabeth, 
who  felt  herself  insulted,  both  as  a  mother  and  a  queen.^ 
Yet,  owing  to  the  friendly  connexion  between  France  and 
England,  it  would  have  been  the  height  of  rashness  to  hazard 

'  Elizabeth  of  Parma  was,  as  is  well  known,  the  second  consort  of  king 
Philip  v.,  having  become  so  in  1715,  and  the  legitimate  heiress  of  the  Spanish 
throne.  Her  first  object  was  to  secure  the  succession,  which  properly  be- 
longed to  the  sons  of  the  first  marriage,  to  her  own  children  ;  in  consequence 
of  which  Spain  was  precipitated  into  more  than  one  war.  The  prospect  of 
seeing  her  daughter  on  the  French  throne  was  a  principal  part  of  her  plan, 
which  was  now  frustrated. 


414 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


415 


a  rupture  with  France,  especially  since  a  reconciliation  with 
Austria  had  not  yet  been  completely  effected  by  the  congress 
at  Cambray.  Indeed,  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected,  from 
the  state  in  which  men's  minds  then  were,  that  such  a  re- 
conciliation should  have  been  accomplished  at  a  congress. 
The  consequence  was,  that  a  resolution  was  speedily  formed 
in  Spain,  of  establishing  a  direct  connexion  with  Austria. 

This  attempt  was  by  no  means  exceptionable  in  itself;  it 
could  hardly  fail  of  success,  since  a  clear  understanding  had 
been  arrived  at  long  before,  during  the  peace,  on  some  of 
the  main  points  of  difference,  namely,  the  concessions  which 
were  mutually  demanded,  and  no  collision  of  interest  had 
occured  in  other  points ;  but  still,  neither  in  the  choice  of  a 
mediator,  nor  in  the  general  conduct  of  the  proceeding,  was 
a  sufficient  degree  of  caution  resorted  to.  Never,  since  their 
difference  with  Austria  was  virtually  arranged  by  the  treaty 
of  Vienna,  on  April  30th,  1725,  and  the  treaty  of  commerce, 
which  immediately  followed  it,  could  it  have  been  more  essen- 
tially necessary  by  a  provident  and  careful  policy  to  tran- 
quillize the  fears  which  must  have  arisen  among  the  foreign 
powers  in  consequence  of  this  unexpected  result.  But  the 
business  of  pacification  was  committed  to  the  duke  of  Rip- 
perda,  one  of  the  vainest  braggarts  that  ever  existed  ;^  who, 
intoxicated  by  his  unexpected  good  fortune,  knew  so  little 
how  to  conduct  himself  in  such  a  change  of  circumstances, 
that  he  very  soon  brought  about  his  own  ruin.  The  sense- 
less behaviour  of  this  man,  who  now  considered  himself  the 
first  statesman  in  Europe,  his  arrogance  and  haughty  bearing 
towards  the  ambassadors  of  foreign  powers,  caused  a  crisis 
in  the  affairs  of  Spain,  the  issue  of  which  promised  much 
more  of  war  than  peace. 

This  reconciliation  of  Spain  and  Austria  roused  all  the 
political  energies  of  George  I.  into  activity.  Almost  the 
only  provision  of  special  interest  contained  in  it  was  that 
which  it  had  always  been  the  policy  of  England  to  promote, 
viz.  the  complete  ratification  of  the  peace  of  Utrecht  and  a 
defensive  alliance.  But  the  opinion  prevailed  that  it  con- 
tained much  more  than  it  really  did.  The  public  mind  was 
anxious  for  information  about  secret  stipulations,  which  were 

*  He  was  in  fact  a  native  of  Holland,  whom  Alberoni  had  brought  as  a  manu- 
facturer to  Spain.  After  his  fall  he  wandered  about  as  an  adventurer  in  Turkey. 


said  to  be  especially  directed  against  England,  so  as  not 
only  to  secure  Gibraltar  to  Spain  ^  and  the  establishment  of 
his  Ostend  company  to  Charles  VI.,  but  even  to  place  the 
pretender  on  the  British  throne ;  for  in  which  of  the  poli- 
tical negotiations  of  that  period  could  this  bugbear  be  dis- 
pensed with  ?  The  sequel  showed  that  it  was  a  mere  phan- 
tom which  caused  the  alarm  ;  the  British  cabinet  had  not 
informed  itself  with  accuracy  as  to  the  true  state  of  things, 
it  gave  credit  to  rumours  and  hearsays;  but  the  consequences 
of  its  conduct  were  serious  in  the  extreme. 

The  supposed  new  offensive  alliance  was  to  be  met  by  a 
counter-alliance,  which  George  I.,  during  his  residence  in 
his  German  territories,  concluded  with  France  and  Prussia 
at  Herren-haus  (Sept.  3rd,  1725).  Yes  !  these  political 
convulsions  extended  even  to  the  remotest  regions  of  the 
North.  Austria  succeeded  in  attaching  to  itself  Russia,  and 
at  first  Sweden  also.  In  order  to  have  a  counterpoise  here 
likewise,  the  aUies  of  Herren-haus  obtained  Denmark  ;  and 
Sweden,  also,  was  soon  induced,  by  the  promise  of  subsidies, 
to  join  their  confederation.  This  was  truly  an  era  of  con- 
federacies !  But  far  from  erecting  them  on  the  basis  of 
mutual  and  well-defined  interests,  they  founded  them  on  re- 
lations which  could  not  possibly  be  durable.  England  sepa- 
rated itself  from  Austria,  the  only  continental  power  in  the 
south  of  Europe  with  which  it  could  be  connected  by  any  per- 
manent interests.  It  leagued  itself  with  France  and  Prussia. 
The  consequences  could  not  be  long  restrained.  Frederic 
William  I.  immediately  afterwards  entered  into  various  nego- 
tiations with  Austria ;  from  the  prospect  of  private  advantage 
which  he  saw,  or  imagined  he  saw,  in  the  opening  of  the  duke- 
doms of  Berg  and  Julich,  which  might  soon  be  expected, 
with  the  view  of  procuring  these  possessions  for  himself 

In  the  event,  however,  war,  on  an  extensive  scale,  seemed 
likely  to  be  the  result  of  this  confederation  of  Herren-haus. 
England  fitted  out  three  fleets,  of  which  one  was  sent  to  the 
West  Indies,  another  to  Gibraltar,  and  the  third  to  the  Bal- 
tic. The  first  two  were,  therefore,  directed  against  Spain, 
which,  on  her  part,  already  began  to  lay  siege  to  Gibraltar ;' 
the  third  was  designed  for  the  support  of  Denmark  and 

'  Spain  certainly  made  claims  upon  Gibraltar,  but  Charles  VI.  had  only 
promised  his  mediation. 


416 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


417 


Sweden,  in  the  event  of  any  movement  on  the  part  of  Russia. 
But  these  hostile  demonstrations  produced  no  very  serious 
consequences,  since  some  good  genius  still  stifled  the  flame 
of  war  just  as  it  seemed  on  the  point  of  breaking  out. 

Europe  was  indebted  for  this  in  a  great  measure  to  the 
ministerial  change  which  occurred  in  France,  1726.  Car- 
dinal Fleury  became  premier  when  the  Duke  of  Bourbon 
fell ;  and  introduced  into  the  French  ministry  dispositions, 
not  less  pacific  than  Walpole  had  infused  into'  the  British! 
The  negotiations  which  were  more  particularly  directed  by 
papal  nuncios,  took  a  favourable  turn  ;  and  one  of  the  main 
stumbling-blocks  was  removed,  when  Charles  VI.  consented 
to  suspend  for  seven  years  his  Ostend  commercial  company. 
George  I.  lived  just  long  enough  to  know  that  the  prelimi- 
naries of  peace  had  been  signed  at  Paris  and  Vienna,  to 
which  Spain  also  acceded  after  some  difliiculty  :  and  in  con- 
sequence of  which,  England  recalled  her  fleets,  but  on  con- 
dition that  Spain  should  consent  to  raise  the  siege  of  Gib- 
raltar ;^  and  by  the  treaty  at  Pardo,  (a  palace  near  Madrid,) 
they  were  presently  ratified  by  both  powers.^  But  a  few 
days  after  the  conclusion  of  those  preliminaries,  viz.  on 
June  22nd,  1727,  George  I.  died,  during  a  tour  in  his  Ger- 
man territories. 

The  foregoing  examination  will,  it  is  hoped,  suffice  for 
formmg  a  general  opinion  of  the  continental  policy  of  Eng- 
land under  George  I.,  and  for  determining  with  greater 
precision  the  effect  which  it  produced,  as  well  upon  the 
political  fabric  of  Europe  in  general,  as  upon  England  in 
particular.  The  interference  of  England  under  George  I., 
was  manifestly  attended  with  beneficial  results  to  the  whole 
political  system  of  Europe.  The  preservation  of  peace  was 
its  object,  and  peace  was  either  maintained  or  restored.  To 
what  protracted  and  sanguinary  wars  must  the  execution  of 
Alberoni's  project  in  all  probability  have  led,  if  England  had 
not  mediated  a  peace,  and  maintained  it  by  means  of  the 
quadruple  alliance,  which  it  was  mainly  instrumental  in 
constructing  !  The  execution  of  those  projects,  inasmuch  as 
they  involved  the  reconquest  of  lost  provinces,  would  have 
oeen  as  little  a  subject  of  congratulation  to  Europe  as  it 
would  probably  have  been  to  Spain  itself;  which  had  so 

'  June  13th,  172;.  2  March  6th,  1728. 


repeatedly  learned  by  dear-bought  experience  the  cost  of 
distant  provinces.  The  war  in  the  North  had  been  termin- 
ated through  the  intervention  of  England ;  and  though  it 
was  impossible  for  England  to  re-establish  a  counter-ba- 
lancing power  in  this  quarter,  Sweden  was  at  all  events 
maintained  in  the  rank  of  independent  states,  from  which, 
without  assistance,  it  would  probably  have  disappeared. 

It  must  be  allowed  that  England  itself  did  not  acquire  any 
new  possessions  by  its  continental  relations,  (though  I  think 
it  has  been  clearly  proved  that  the  acquisition  of  Bremen 
and  Verden  were  important  to  it,)  but  it  gained  advantages 
of  another  description  which  were  by  no  means  incon- 
siderable. 

In  the  first  place  it  secured  the  succession  of  the  house  of 
Hanover  on  the  British  throne.  The  voice  of  the  nation  has 
proclaimed  this  too  loudly  and  unanimously  as  the  most  im- 
portant feature  of  its  returning  prosperity  to  require  any 
detailed  proof;  the  only  question  which  can  possibly  arise, 
is  whether  this  was  a  consequence  of  its  continental  relations. 
It  may  perhaps  be  objected  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  at- 
tempts to  re-establish  the  pretender  on  the  throne  originated 
in  the  interference  of  England  in  the  affairs  of  the  continent. 
But  as  long  as  the  Stuarts  had  or  might  have  powerful 
friends  abroad,  could  the  new  dynasty  safely  dispense  with 
such  aid  ?  The  throne  of  the  Hanoverian  house  was  by  no 
means  so  secure  as  to  supersede  the  necessity  of  accepting 
every  available  offer  of  support.  But  it  was  more  peculiarly 
the  good  understanding  which  existed  for  so  long  a  period 
with  France,  which  was  of  such  infinite  service  to  them  in 
this  emergency.  France  was  the  principal,  perhaps  the  only 
power  which  by  supporting  the  pretender  could  in  any  ma- 
terial degree  endanger  the  security  of  the  new  dynasty.  And 
surely  the  favourable  opportunity  which  was  thus  presented 
to  the  new  family,  of  negotiating  its  private  interests  by 
means  of  this  connexion  without  compromising  those  of  the 
nation  at  large,  was  a  piece  of  good  fortune  not  to  be  neg- 
lected. Further  than  this — By  the  active  share  which  Eng- 
land took  on  this  occasion  she  maintained  that  high  consi- 
deration in  the  political  system  of  Europe,  which  she  had 
acqiiired  during  the  reign  of  William  and  Anne.  It  does 
not  require  much  sagacity  to  perceive  of  how  much  influence 


2  E 


418 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


the  public  estimation  of  a  state  must  be  in  such  a  system  as 
that  of  Europe.  The  conduct  of  others  is  regulated  by  it, 
just  as  we  see  it  among  individuals  in  private  life.  Even 
fallen  states  have  often  for  a  considerable  time  experienced 
the  benefits  of  its  support ;  as  for  example,  Venice  and  the 
Porte ;  but  even  a  state  which  is  but  on  the  rise  cannot 
aiford  to  be  indifferent  to  it.  Even  though  no  positive  ad- 
vantage should  be  gained  by  this  public  estimation,  yet  the 
negative  effect  is  invaluable,  since  no  measure  of  importance 
is  undertaken  without  the  knowledge  of  such  a  state,  and 
therefore  none  can  be  easily  undertaken  which  is  opposed  to 
it  and  its  interests.  We  cannot  adduce  a  better  illustration  of 
this  truth  than  by  comparing  the  republic  of  the  United 
Netherlands  with  England,  at  the  period  of  which  we 
are  treating  and  still  propose  to  treat.  The  latter  state  laid 
it  down  as  a  fundamental  principle  of  her  policy  after  the 
peace  of  Utrecht,  to  keep  herself  as  much  aloof  as  possible 
from  all  foreign  transactions,  or  only  to  take  part  in  them 
when  absolutely  compelled.  She  continued  to  maintain  for 
some  time  longer  her  position  in  public  estimation  among 
the  states  of  the  first  order.  By  degrees,  however,  she 
began  to  sink  lower  and  lower  in  the  scale,  and  experience 
has  shown  the  result  to  which  this  eventually  led. 

Lastly,  the  continuance  of  peace  was  another  result  to 
England  of  her  continental  policy,  and  assuredly  not  the 
least  considerable.  It  not  only  secured  to  her  the  quiet  en- 
joyment of  the  advantages  derived  from  her  Spanish  com- 
merce, but  also  those  arising  from  intercourse  with  her  colo- 
nies in  America  and  the  West  Indies,  which  at  that  very  time 
were  becoming  prosperous  in  the  extreme,  and  to  which  the 
annually  increasing  consumption  of  West  Indian  produce, 
particularly  of  coffee,  began  to  impart  a  value  which  no  one 
could  have  anticipated.  Still  the  times  had  not  then  arrived 
(as  they  since  have)  for  such  an  increase  in  the  power  of 
England  as  to  enable  her  to  carry  on  her  trade,  even  during 
war,  comparatively  without  molestation. 

But  though  all  this  may  demonstrate  the  soundness  of  the 
British  continental  policy  in  general  during  the  reign  of 
George  I.,  it  will  not  by  any  means  vindicate  every  single 
measure  which  was  resorted  to  in  pursuance  of  it.  It  can- 
not be  denied,  that,  particularly  in  the  last  six  years  of  this 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


419 


monarch's  reign,  the  interference  of  the  British  cabinet  in 
the  affairs  of  the  continent,  assumed  the  character  of  over- 
activity without  at  the  same  time  maintaining  that  stability 
which  is  the  indispensable  condition  of  all  durable  alliances. 
It  cannot  be  denied,  that  precipitate  measures  were  some- 
times adopted,  particularly  those  occasioned  by  the  league  of 
Herren-haus,  which,  without  a  concurrence  of  fortunate  cir- 
cumstances, which  were  beyond  the  control  of  England, 
would  in  all  probability  have  caused  disastrous  conse- 
quences. To  this  period  we  may  perhaps  ascribe  the  illu- 
sion that  she  was  able  by  her  fleets  to  accomplish  more  than 
the  nature  of  things  permits ;  so  likewise  the  notion  of 
deriving  great  advantages  from  the  subsidies  which  she 
furnished,  was  then  at  least  entertained,  though  it  had  not 
as  yet  any  serious  consequences. 

Important  changes  in  the  ministry  were  expected  on  the 
death  of  the  king  (1727).  These  anticipations,  however, 
were  not  realized ;  Walpole,  supported  by  the  credit  of 
Queen  Caroline,  continued  prime  minister.  It  could  scarcely 
have  been  expected  therefore,  that  the  spirit  of  the  British 
continental  policy  should  be  materially  altered  during  the 
first  years  of  George  II.'s  reign.  But  though  no  immediate 
changes  ensued,  the  alteration  which  took  place  in  the 
political  relations  of  the  continent,  caused  a  corresponding 
alteration  in  those  of  England,  which  ought  not  to  pass  un- 
observed. 

When  George  II.  ascended  the  throne,  the  amicable  re- 
lations subsisting  between  England  and  France  remained  in 
all  their  force.  The  character  of  the  two  premiers,  Fleury 
and  Walpole,  were  too  well  suited  to  each  other  to  admit 
readily  of  a  change.  Both  were  intent  upon  the  preserva- 
tion of  peace,  and  their  union  was  still  more  strongly 
cemented  by  the  brother  of  the  British  minister,  Horatio 
Walpole,  in  the  character  of  ambassador  at  Paris.  Prussia, 
the  other  ally  of  Herren-haus,  had,  as  we  have  before  re- 
marked, already  entered  into  separate  negotiations  with  Aus- 
tria ;  the  republic  of  the  United  Netherlands  stood  on  a  most 
friendly  footing  with  England  and  France ;  accustomed  as 
Europe  was  to  see  the  republic  take  part  in  all  her  great 
confederations,  it  was  now  taken  for  granted  that  no  associ- 
ation could  be  formed  without  its  concurrence ;  while  the 

2e2 


420 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


republic  itself,  intent  upon  the  preservation  of  peace, 
thought  it  could  never  employ  sufficient  precaution  in  pur- 
suit of  this  object.  With  regard  to  the  confederate  pov^ers, 
Spain  and  Austria,  negotiations  had  been  opened  with  the 
former  of  them,  vt^hich  though  at  first  they  appeared  to  take 
an  unfavourable  turn,  owing  to  the  death  of  the  king,  were 
soon  restored  to  their  former  course,  by  the  continuance  in 
office  of  the  Walpole  administration,  and  were  brought  to  a 
successful  issue  by  the  treaty  at  Pardo.  Since  the  scheme 
of  the  Ostend  company  had  been  suspended,  it  appeared  as 
though  friendly  relations  might  be  renewed  with  Austria 
likewise ;  but  new  events  intervening,  this  was  prevented, 
or  at  least  delayed. 

The  British  cabinet  at  that  time  evidently  set  a  much 
higher  value  upon  the  friendship  of  Spain  than  on  that  of 
Austria.  The  temporary  advantages  derivable  from  the  se- 
cure possession  of  Gibraltar  and  Minorca,  the  profitable  trade 
with  Spain  itself,  and,  above  all,  with  its  American  posses- 
sions, guaranteed  as  it  was  by  existing  treaties,  seemed  to 
claim  a  paramount  importance.  But  this  friendship  could 
not  well  be  maintained  without  entering  into  the  interested 
plans  of  the  queen  of  Spain  for  the  advancement  of  her 
children,  and  thus  hazarding  giving  offence  to  Austria. 
However,  the  prospect  of  advantage  derivable  to  England 
from  a  separation  of  the  two  powers,  Austria  and  Spain, 
overcame  this  consideration.  By  the  conditions  of  the 
quadruple  alliance,  Tuscany,  with  Parma  and  Placentia, 
were  secured  to  the  queen  of  Spain  for  her  elder  son  Don 
Carlos,  as  soon  as  their  projected  opening  should  be  com- 
pleted— till  which  time  they  were  to  remain  in  the  occupa- 
tion of  neutral  troops.  But  apprehensive  that  obstacles 
might  be  thrown  in  her  way,  she  wished  to  secure  the  im- 
mediate possession  of  them,  and  Spanish  troops  were  sent 
into  them  as  a  garrison.  England  entered  into  these  plans,  and 
although  they  were  an  infraction  of  the  quadruple  alliance, 
without  consulting  or  apprizing  Austria,  joined  with  France 
in  concluding  a  treaty  with  Spain  at  Seville,^  in  which  it 
was  not  only  permitted  to  Spain  thus  to  act,  but  even  Eng- 
land rendered  itself  liable  to  contribute  towards  sending 
Don  Carlos  into  those  provinces  with  6000  Spanish  troops. 

•  Nov.  9,  1729. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


421 


The  most  violent  indignation  on  the  part  of  Austria  was  the 
natural  result  of  these  proceedings.  But,  however  much  in- 
censed Austria  may  have  felt,  however  loudly  she  protested 
that  she  would  not  tolerate  any  foreign  troops  in  this 
quarter,  Walpole  nevertheless  succeeded  in  calming  her  re- 
sentment. His  plan  was  to  endeavour  to  steer  his  way  clear 
between  two  rocks,  and  he  succeeded.  When  the  more  dan- 
gerous alternative  of  the  two,  viz.  a  breach  with  Spain,  had 
been  eluded — his  next  point  was  to  avoid  the  other.  But 
Walpole  knew  the  talisman  by  which  the  opposition  of 
Charles  VI.  might  be  charmed  away.  Whoever  recognised 
his  order  of  succession  in  favour  of  his  daughter,  his  Prag- 
matic Sanction,  might  always  calculate  upon  gaining  him 
over,  and  even  inducing  him  to  make  a  sacrifice  of  his  own 
interest.  At  this  price  Walpole,  by  quietly  negotiating  with 
Austria  as  he  had  just  before  done  with  Spain,  obtained  the 
formal  abolition  of  the  Ostend  company  for  England,  and 
the  promise  of  the  investiture  of  Tuscany  and  Parma,  with 
permission  to  send  Spanish  troops  thither  for  Spain ;  and 
the  treaty  of  Vienna  was  concluded  on  the  16th  of  March, 

1731. 

In  any  continental  state  Walpole  would,  with  such  a 
policy  as  this,  in  all  probability  have  failed.  England  was 
now  in  friendship  with  all  the  world,  without  possessing  a 
single  true  friend  in  the  political  sense  of  the  term.  The 
friendship  of  Spain  could  not  be  permanent,  since  a  grow- 
ing cause  of  differences  lay  hid  in  their  commercial  relations ; 
the  friendship  of  France  was  now  growing  cold  in  conse- 
quence of  the  treaty  of  Vienna,  which  had  been  concluded 
without  her  participation  ;  to  counteract  which  Fleury  not 
only  re-established  the  good  understanding  with  Spain,  but 
likewise  showed  his  skill  in  strengthening  it.  The  renewed 
friendship  with  Austria  required  under  such  relations  to  be 
severely  tried  before  its  sincerity  could  be  depended  upon. 
England  had  engaged  herself  in  a  tissue  of  treaties,  out  of 
which  it  seemed  scarcely  possible  she  should  extricate  her- 
self. Had  she  been  prepared  to  fulfil  all  her  engagements, 
scarcely  a  war  could  have  arisen  in  any  quarter  of  Europe 
in  which  she  would  not  have  been  implicated,  nay,  in  which 
she  would  not  have  been  obliged  to  furnish  auxiliaries  m 
several  quarters  at  once.     But  an  insular  state  has  certainly 


422 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


in  such  cases  great  advantages  over  every  other.  Its  posi- 
tion gives  it  in  every  case  the  best  chance  of  keeping  clear 
of  the  struggle ;  and  hov^r  many  resources  may  not  be  dis- 
covered when  time  is  allowed,  by  which  we  may  extricate 
ourselves  from  difficulties,  without  being  directly  unfaithful 
to  our  engagements  !  It  is  a  sure  rule,  that  an  insular  state, 
in  its  connexions  with  continental  powers,  always  stakes  less 
upon  the  game  than  is  staked  by  them  in  their  connexions 
with  it.  Probably,  however,  Walpole  was  not  influenced 
by  such  considerations  as  these.  He  was  not  a  man  who 
built  his  policy  on  general  grounds,  or  who  looked  very  far 
into  futurity.  His  object  was  the  preservation  of  peace ; 
and  he  cared  not  through  what  obstacles  he  had  to  steal  his 
way  towards  the  attainment  of  this  object,  provided  he  was 
only  so  fortunate  as  to  avoid  each  as  it  occurred. 

The  truth  of  these  observations  is  strikingly  corroborated 
by  the  events  which  occurred  in  Europe  in  the  following 
years.  The  throne  of  Poland,  which  had  been  vacated  by 
the  death  of  Augustus  II.,'  plunged  the  greater  part  of  the 
continent  of  Europe  into  a  war,  in  which  the  occupation  of 
this  throne  was  to  the  majority  of  those  engaged  but  the 
pretext  of  their  interference.  Charles  VI.  was  guilty  of 
the  folly  of  taking  part  with  Russia  and  Prussia,  in  favour 
of  Augustus  HI.,  in  order  to  obtain  from  Saxony  the 
recognition  of  his  Pragmatic  Sanction,  and  thus  armed 
the  Bourbon  powers  with  weapons  which  they  might 
wield  against  himself.  Attacked  by  France,  Spain,  and 
Savoy,  Charles  VI.  saw  himself  stripped  within  the  space  of 
a  year  of  all  his  Italian  possessions,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine  became  the  scene  of  the  war  in 
Germany. 

After  so  many  previous  negotiations  and  so  many  con- 
nexions contracted  in  every  quarter,  who  could  have  ex- 
pected that  England  at  such  a  crisis,  when  her  most  recent 
allies  were  the  objects  of  attack,  would  have  remained  neu- 
tral. There  was  no  backwardness  on  the  part  of  Austria  in 
demanding  assistance ;  but  as  the  treaty  with  this  power  was 
only  a  defensive  treaty  there  was  not  much  difficulty  in 
evading  it.  England,  in  connexion  with  Holland,  confined 
herself  therefore  to  that  which  touched  her  most  nearly,  the 

•  Feb.  1, 1733. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


423 


maintenance  of  the  neutrality^  of  the  Austrian  Netherlands, 
and  generally  to  making  proposals  of  peace  which  however 
were  not  accepted.  The  issue  is  well  known.  France  con- 
cluded the  preliminaries  of  the  treaty  of  Vienna  with  Austria 
without  any  interruption  from  England.^  It  acquired  for 
itself  in  return  for  the  bare  promise  of  recognising  the  Prag- 
matic Sanction,  the  dukedom  of  Lorraine ;  and  the  queen  of 
Spain  was  eventually  contented  to  accept  the  kingdom  of 
Naples  and  Sicily,  in  lieu  of  Parma  and  Tuscany,  for  her 
son  Don  Carlos,  in  hope  of  recovering  also  at  the  first  op- 
portunity the  other  Italian  territories  for  her  second  son. 

The  course  pursued  by  Walpole  during  the  progress  of 
these  events,  was  perhaps  most  consistent  with  the  moment- 
ary advantages  of  England,  but  it  was  not  consistent.  The 
very  minister  whose  whole  energies  were  roused  into  action 
the  moment  that  a  single  twig  of  the  political  tree  was  set  in 
motion,  now  looked  on  with  indifference  while  the  whole 
stem  was  shaken  !  How  could  he  any  longer  hope  to  find  a 
faithful  ally — he,  who  was  so  deeply  interested  in  such  con- 
nexions— if  he  saw  his  most  recent  and  almost  his  only  ally 
despoiled  of  his  most  valuable  territories,  without  tendering 
him  the  least  assistance  ?  It  might  certainly  be  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  England  who  continued  to  sit  on  the  Polish 
throne,  but  after  all  that  she  had  hitherto  done,  was  it  pos- 
sible that  the  fate  of  Italy  and  the  aggrandizement  of  France 
could  be  so  likewise  ?  We  are  far  from  meaning  to  assert 
that  England  ought  to  have  taken  up  arms  in  every  such 
emergency.  The  presumption  of  being  able  to  decide  such 
points  has  already  cost  the  world  enough  !  But  still  I  repeat 
that  this  conduct  in  comparison  with  his  former  policy  was 
not  consistent.  History  never  presumes  to  determine  what 
would  have  happened  in  any  given  case,  but  the  supposition 
is  at  all  events  not  without  foundation,  that  if  Austria  had 
been  at  that  time  vigorously  supported,  Europe  might  have 
been  spared  the  whole  war  of  succession. 

Meanwhile  the  times  were  approaching  in  which  all  the 
anxiety  of  the  minister  to  maintain  peace  was  unavailing, 
since  the  nation  was  unable  any  longer  to  endure  the  bless- 
ings of  tranquillity.     England  was  plunged  into  two  wars  at 

'  By  a  treaty  with  France  at  the  Hague,  Nov.  24,  1733. 
*  October  3,  1735. 


424 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


the  same  time,  the  Spanish  and  the  Austrian  wars  of  succes- 
sion, both  of  which  became  at  last  blended  into  one.  But  they 
constituted  an  epoch  in  the  British  continental  policy ;   and 
it  is  in  this  point  of  view  that  they  must  here  be  considered. 
The  war  which  broke  out  with  Spain  in  the  year  1739, 
can  only  be  regarded  as  a  remote  consequence  of  the  conti- 
nental relations ;  so  far,  namely,  as  the  commercial  conces- 
sions made  at  the  peace  of  Utrecht,  by  means  of  the  treaty 
of  Assiento,  laid  the  ground  for  it.     But  considered  in  an- 
other point  of  view,  it  is  nevertheless  always  of  extreme  im- 
portance, as  a  phenomenon  arising  out  of  the  development 
of  the  British  commercial  policy,  so  far  as  this  had  always  a 
considerable  influence  on  her  foreign  relations.     It  was  the 
first  war  which  England  carried  on  under  the  house  of  Han- 
over, or  indeed  it  would  not  be  too  much  to  assert  that  it 
was  the  first  which  she  carried  on  at  all,  barely  for  the  sake 
of  commerce ;  and  then  it  must  be  allowed  the  voice  of  the 
nation  imperatively  demanded  it.     And  although  the  treaty 
of  Assiento  and  some  other  disputes,  as  about  cutting  log- 
wood and  others,  gave  occasion  to  it,  yet  the  cause,  properly 
speaking,  lay  more  deep.     The  spread  of  British  power  in 
the  West  Indies,  and  the  flourishing  commerce  of  her  colo- 
nial possessions  there,  could  not  possibly  consist  with  the 
claims  which  Spain  still  made  to  the  dominion  of  these  seas ; 
and  the  war  was  from  the  very  first  not  merely  a  war  for  the 
protection  of  the  smuggling  trade,  but  for  the  free  navigation 
of  the  West  Indian  seas.     The  point  in  dispute  could  not  be, 
and  of  course  was  not,  whether  England  should  carry  on  its 
smuggling  trade  with  the  Spanish  colonies,  but  the  question 
was  from  the  first,  whether  British  ships  trading  to  the  West 
Indies  should  in  the  high  seas   be   subjected  to  Spanish 
search  ?  The  Spaniards  had  hitherto  exercised  this  right  as 
consequent  on  their  dominion  of  the  sea,  and  regarded  it  as 
the  only  means  of  restraining  the  smuggling  trade.     The 
English  on  the  other  hand  refiised  to  submit  to  that  search. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  the  importance  of  this  war  with  respect 
to  its  consequences  will  not  require  any  further  notice. 

Meanwhile  the  exertions  of  the  minister  were  wholly  and 
sincerely  directed  to  the  means  of  averting  the  war,  if  it 
could  only  be  effected  without  trenching  too  closely  on  the 
interests  of  the  nation.     He  accordingly  entered  into  nego- 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


425 


tiations ;  and  as  he  well  knew  that  the  demand  relative  to 
the  right  of  search  would  never  be  explicitly  and  unreserv- 
edly given  up  by  Spain,  he  sought  as  much  as  possible  to 
evade  it;  and  eventually  succeeded,  on  Jan.  15,  1739,  in 
bringing  about  a  treaty  with  Spain,  which  was  signed  at 
Madrid.  It  contained,  however,  only  a  few  preliminaries, 
while  the  further  arrangements  respecting  the  future  security 
of  British  navigation  in  the  West  Indies  was  referred  to 
commissioners  appointed  on  both  sides  for  the  investigation. 
However  much  sagacity  the  minister  had  shown  in  these 
negotiations,  his  whole  project  nevertheless  now  miscarried. 
The  opposite  party  prevailed,  and  he  saw  himself  compelled 
to  declare  war  against  Spain.  Would  it  not  have  been  bet- 
ter to  have  let  this  be  done  by  another,  and  to  have  tendered 
his  resignation  at  once,  rather  than  to  have  submitted  after  a 
fruitless  struggle  to  be  driven  from  power  by  his  opponents  ? 

The  scene  of  this  war  was,  as  might  be  expected,  in  the 
West  Indies.  It  was  the  first  time  that  a  British  fleet  had 
sailed  to  those  regions  of  the  world  ;  where  only  single  ships, 
or  at  most  small  squadrons,  had  formerly  been  seen.  The 
growing  importance  of  the  colonies  in  connexion  with  their 
commercial  jealousy,  led  subsequently  to  the  result  that  even 
their  colonies  became  the  scene  of  war  between  the  European 
powers. 

But  this  war  did  not  long  remain  the  only  one.  The  year 
1740,  in  which  Maria  Theresa  and  Frederic  II.  mounted 
the  throne,  constituted  an  era  in  the  general  history  of 
Europe ;  and  likewise  in  the  history  of  the  British  conti- 
nental relations.  We  have  seen  the  fluctuations  which  took 
place  in  the  latter  during  the  last  fifteen  years;  we  have 
seen  that,  although  at  certain  periods  greater  stability  of 
purpose  might  have  been  expected  from  the  British  ministry, 
yet  the  main  cause  lay  in  the  fluctuating  politics  of  the  con- 
tinental powers  themselves,  and  in  their  mutual  relations. 
But  the  Austrian  war  of  succession,  which  broke  out  at  the 
instigation  of  France,  and  had  no  less  considerable  an  object 
than  the  dismemberment  of  the  Austrian  monarchy,  excited 
a  general  interest  among  the  powers  which  leagued  them- 
selves with  France  for  this  purpose,  viz.  Spain,  Sardinia, 
and  Bavaria,  and  though  only  for  a  short  time  and  for  de- 
finite objects,  Prussia  also.    The  old  enmity  which  subsisted 


426 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


between  Austria  and  France,  revived  therefore  in  all  its  vi- 
gour ;  and  had  the  object  which  the  league  had  in  view 
been  attained,  France  would  have  reigned  without  a  rival 
over  the  whole  continent  of  Europe. 

That  the  dismemberment  of  the  Austrian  monarchy  would 
be  in  two  respects  detrimental  to  England,  as  neither  the 
destiny  of  the  Austrian  Netherlands  nor  the  balance  of  power 
on  the  continent  could  be  matters  of  indifference  to  her,  was 
generally  agreed  upon  in  England.  Besides,  England  had 
not  only  guaranteed  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  in  general,  but 
had  also  entered  into  peculiar  responsibilities  for  sending 
twelve  thousand  auxiliaries  against  Austria.^  The  honour 
and  interest  of  England  seemed  to  render  it  imperative  upon 
her  to  make  a  vigorous  effort  to  save  Austria.  But  how 
this  might  be  effectually  done,  was  another  question. 

The  relations  of  Austria  and  the  continental  relations  in 
general,  had  been  materially  changed  since  the  accession  of 
George  I.  to  the  British  throne  by  the  growing  power  of 
Prussia,  which  even  now,  in  a  military  point  of  view,  stood 
in  the  first  rank  of  powers.  England  herself  had  few  points 
of  contact  with  Prussia ;  but  it  could  not  be  a  matter  of  in- 
difference to  England,  that  Prussia  should  join  her  enemies, 
and  besides,  so  long  as  the  interest  of  Hanover  was  not  con- 
sidered altogether  detached  from  that  of  England,  a  point  of 
contact  of  more  than  ordinary  importance  was  here  presented. 
The  alliance  of  Herren-haus  seems  also  to  have  laid  the 
foundation  for  it.  But  the  desertion  of  this  alliance  by 
Prussia,  and  still  more  a  personal  aversion  which  subsisted 
between  George  II.  and  Frederic  William  I.  notwithstanding 
their  near  relationship,  had  frustrated  these  views,  and  had 
even  neutralized  every  attempt  to  re-establish  amicable  re- 
lations ;  yet  the  British  cabinet  did  not  lose  sight  of  this 
measure ;  and  even  in  the  very  next  year  after  the  death  of 
Charles  VI.  it  became  the  favourite  project  of  Walpole  to 
consummate  a  grand  confederation  with  Austria,  Russia, 
and  Prussia,  which  should  maintain  the  balance  of  power 
against  the  Bourbon  courts.  But  as  this  was  frustrated  and 
the  Austrian  war  of  succession  broke  out,  hopes  were  never- 
theless at  first  entertained  of  realizing  this  idea  in  part, 
since  a  separate  treaty  between  Austria  and  Prussia  was 

'  By  the  treaty  of  1731. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


427 


effected,  which  was  to  have  a  defensive  alliance  for  its 
sequel.  But  Maria  Theresa,  who  would  consent  to  no  sacri- 
fice, rejected  this  proposal  of  reconciliation,  chiefly  influenced 
by  the  visionary  hopes  so  absurdly  excited  in  her  by  the  nego- 
tiations in  London.^  Considered  merely  in  a  political  view, 
Walpole's  plan  would  have  been  excellent;  but  ministers 
too  often  forget  that  political  plans  are  morally  impractica- 
ble, so  long  as  political  motives  are  subject  to  the  influence 
of  the  passions.  How  could  it  have  been  possible  to  effect 
a  solid  union  between  two  powers,  when  the  principles  on 
which  it  was  based  demanded  the  compulsory  surrender  of 
considerable  provinces  from  the  one  to  the  other  ? 

England  had  therefore  no  alternative  remaining,  but 
either  to  leave  Austria  to  her  fate,  or  to  interpose  for  her 
deliverance ;  and,  notwithstanding  the  unfortunate  issue  of 
the  Spanish  war,  she  chose  the  latter,  which  the  voice  of 
the  nation  loudly  demanded.  Walpole,  however,  while  he 
held  the  reins  of  government,  would  not  renounce  his  old 
policy ;  he  wished  to  administer  succour  without  involving 
himself  in  the  war ;  he  furnished  subsidies  and  took  German 
troops  into  pay. 

Both  these  phenomena,  subsidies  and  mercenary  troops, 
especially  characterize  the  continental  policy  of  England 
from  this  period.  It  is  requisite  therefore  that  we  should 
examine  them  somewhat  more  minutely  with  regard  to  their 
nature  and  their  effects ;  and  indeed  the  more  attentively 
we  view  them,  the  more  unfair  and  partial  will  the  employ- 
ment of  them  often  be  considered,  especially  in  later  times. 

The  granting  of  subsidies  to  foreign  states  was  not,  as 
we  have  already  shown  above,  p.  396,  first  introduced  by 
the  kings  of  the  house  of  Hanover,  but  had  prevailed  as 
early  as  the  reign  of  William  HI.,  and  more  especially  in 
that  of  Anne,  during  the  war  of  the  Spanish  succession. 
Upon  a  general  view,  it  appears  a  consequence  of  the  un- 

The  most  credible  and  satisfactory  explanation  which  we  have  received  of 
all  the  diplomatic  relations  and  negotiations  of  the  British  cabinet,  at  that 
period,  derived  entirely  from  public  documents,  and  supported  by  them,  first 
appeared  in  the  two  works  of  W.  Coxe.  "  Memoirs  of  Robert  Walpole,"  1798, 
3  vols.,  and  «*  Memoirs  of  Horace  Walpole,"  4to,  1802.  I  refer  particularly  to 
the  last,  pp.  211, 224,  et  seq.  What  valuable  materials  of  every  kind,  historical 
and  moral,  do  these  works  present  to  the  future  historian  of  Great  Britain, 
under  the  house  of  Hanover !  They  have  been  the  first  to  render  such  a  his- 
tory of  the  whole  period  of  the  two  Walpoles  feasible. 


428 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


equal  distribution  of  wealth  in  the  countries  which  formed 
the  complicated  political  system  of  Europe  ;  and  for  that 
reason  necessarily  extended  itself  more  and  more  in  pro- 
portion  as  this  inequality  increased.  Since  the  western 
countries  of  this  part  of  the  globe,  by  the  advantage  of  their 
position,  drew  to  themselves  the  most  extensive  commerce 
wealth  became  accumulated  in  specie,  and  enabled  these 
countries  to  furnish  the  subsidies  of  which  the  others  stood 
in  need.  Not  only  England,  but  France  and  Holland  fol- 
lowed  this  system.  But  England,  by  reason  of  her  position 
and  her  relations,  was  manifestly  most  frequently  placed  in 
a  condition  to  adopt  it. 

The  granting  of  subsidies  may  prove  a  great  gain,  or  a 
great  evil,  as  well  to  the  state  which  furnishes  them  as  to 
that  which  receives  them,  accordingly  as  it  may  be  directed 
by  a  sound  policy,  by  despicable  passions,  or  by  mere  poli- 
tical caprice  :  its  effects,  if  pernicious,  may  even  extend  to 
the  whole  political  system. 

Independence  and  security  are  more  valuable  than  money, 
and  if  both  of  them  can  be  purchased  or  maintained  for  a 
state  itself  and  its  confederates  by  money,  such  an  expen- 
diture certainly  cannot  be  without  advantage.  In  a  system 
composed  of  such  different  elements  as  the  political  system 
of  Europe,  that  nicely-adjusted  balance  of  power  which  can 
afford  the  only  security  for  the  perpetuity  of  the  whole,  can- 
not possibly  be  maintained  without  reciprocal  support.  It  is 
clear,  however,  from  the  preceding  observations,  that  those 
states  which  had  been  accustomed  to  receive  supplies  of 
money  rather  than  of  men,  must  unavoidably  be  subsidised 
as  soon  as  they  themselves  experience  a  greater  deficiency 
in  money  than  in  men.  To  rich  states,  therefore,  who 
spared  their  own  subjects,  which  they  might  otherwise 
have  been  compelled  to  sacrifice,  the  granting  of  subsidies 
became  under  such  circumstances  an  almost  necessary 
condition  for  the  maintenance  of  this  balance.  But  con- 
sidered in  another  point  of  view,  it  is  unquestionable  that 
such  a  resource  is  likely  to  be  scandalously  abused,  when- 
ever blind  passion  resorts  to  it  for  satiating  its  animosity, 
or  even  that  execrable  policy  is  followed  which  sees  its  own 
interest  in  the  protraction  of  war  amongst  others,  and  does 
not  shrink  from  making  considerable  sacrifices  in   order 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


429 


to  compass  its  object.  The  maxims  which  sound  policy 
would  dictate  in  granting  subsidies,  have  never,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  been  made  the  subject  of  a  distinct  inquiry.  They  may, 
perhaps,  be  most  correctly  deduced  from  the  expression 
itself  Subsidies  are  succours  furnished  in  money  by  one 
state  to  another,  principally  for  the  purpose  of  defending 
the  interests  of  that  state,  which  are  indirectly  identified 
with  its  own.  This  appears  to  be  the  main  point  for  con- 
sideration, but  which  immediately  becomes  changed  when 
the  defence  of  our  own  interests  becomes  the  direct  motive 
of  our  actions.  It  is  only  in  the  first  case  that  any  reason- 
able prospect  of  advantage  can  be  expected ;  and  a  detailed 
history  of  subsidies  would  probably  lead  to  the  conclusion 
that  great  statesmen  have  pretty  closely  adhered  to  that  fun- 
damental maxim ;  and  that  those  who  violate  it  do  so  to 
their  own  cost.  In  an  isolated  case  it  might  certainly  be 
sometimes  difficult  to  determine  whose  interests  predomin- 
ated ;  whether  those  of  the  state  that  furnished  the  subsidies, 
or  those  of  the  state  that  received  them.  This,  however, 
could  never  be  less  doubtful  than  in  the  case  of  the  subsi- 
dies afforded  by  England  at  this  period  to  Austria.  Even 
the  enemies  of  England  did  not  venture  to  cast  any  imput- 
ation upon  her  for  her  conduct. 

The  taking  foreign  troops  into  pay  in  order  to  prosecute 
our  own  wars,  is  an  expedient  closely  allied  to  that  of  subsidies. 
This  phenomenon,  as  we  learn  from  history,  is  an  immediate 
consequence  of  the  nature  of  great  maritime  and  commercial 
states ;  where  there  is  neither  a  large  population,  which  can 
be  employed  in  land  service  without  considerable  injury  to 
commerce,  nor  indeed  is  land  service  usually  considered  so 
honourable  as  in  those  which  are  peculiarly  territorial  states.^ 
But  England  had  besides  an  especial  reason  for  having  re- 
course to  this  expedient,  which,  in  her  case,  could  not  pos- 
sibly have  been  avoided,  viz.  the  objection  of  the  nation  to 
any  increase  of  its  standing  army,  from  a  fear  that  it  would 
prove  dangerous  to  its  liberties.  We  need  only  retrace  the 
parliamentary  history  of  the  past  century,  commencing 
with  the  last  quarter  of  it,  in  order  to  know  how  often, 
whenever  an  opportunity  occurred,  this  object  became  the 

'  I  have  already  shown  this  at  large  in  the  instance  of  an  ancient  people, 
the  Carthaginians,  Historical  Researches,  African  Nations. 


430 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


bone  of  contention  between  the  opposition  and  the  minis- 
terial party.  Although  this  distrust  was  not  altogether 
groundless,  yet  there  can  be  no  question  that  it  was  carried 
too  far,  and  that  it  might  have  led  to  very  detrimental  conse- 
quences. While  the  other  states  of  Europe  continued  to 
augment  their  standing  forces  almost  every  year,  even  an  in- 
sular state  could  not  entirely  avoid  doing  so,  where  it  was 
not  merely  an  active  member  of  the  general  state  system  of 
Europe,  but  was  likewise  threatened,  and  not  idly  so,  with 
an  invasion  from  without.  From  such  exigencies  and  obsta- 
cles, the  system  of  nations  supporting  themselves  as  much  as 
possible  by  taking  foreign  troops  into  pay,  naturally  had  its 
rise.  Even  this  might  have  its  good  and  evil  consequences, 
according  as  it  was  proceeded  in  with  moderation,  or  abused 
and  carried  to  excess.  England  might  by  that  means  spare 
her  men ;  but  on  the  other  hand  it  might  prove  a  very  per- 
nicious expedient,  if  it  weakened  the  confidence  which  she 
ought  to  repose  in  her  own  strength,  and  damped  the  mih- 
tary  spirit  of  the  nation.  The  evil  appeared  to  attach  for  the 
most  part  to  those  nations  who  furnished  troops  for  money. 
But  in  the  first  place,  and  this  is  a  very  important  circum- 
stance, according  to  the  recognised  principles  of  interna- 
tional law  in  those  times,  the  people  who  furnished  mercenary 
troops  were  not  on  that  account  regarded  as  enemies  of  those 
against  whom  these  troops  were  employed ;  and  if  we  do 
not  take  narrow  and  confined  views  of  the  subject,  it  is  not 
diflScult  to  show  how  one  side  of  the  question  alone  was 
considered  by  those  persons  whose  declamations  were  solely 
directed  against  a  market  of  the  human  species,  where  slaves 
are  exposed  for  sale.  God  forbid  that  these  expressions 
should  be  supposed  to  recommend  the  hiring  out  one's  own 
troops  for  foreign  pay  as  a  universally  excellent  maxim  of 
policy.  But  if  countries  which  groan  under  the  burden  of 
a  heavy  national  debt,  are  not  only  relieved  from  it  by  this 
expedient,  but  are  restored  to  a  state  of  public  prosperity, 
and  who  can  be  ignorant  that  such  is  the  case  ?  may  it  not 
be  truly  asserted,  that  the  troops  which  enter  into  a  foreign 
service  promote  the  good  of  their  country  in  a  more  eminent 
degree  than  they  could  do  on  the  field  of  battle  in  any  cause 
of  their  own.  Here  too  it  is  the  relations  under  which  the 
circumstance  occurred,  and  the  objects  which  might  be,  and 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


431 


indeed  were  attained  thereby,  which  form  the  true  criterion 
of  approbation  or  censure.  Besides,  how  often  has  it  hap- 
pened, indeed  almost  invariably  in  continental  wars,  that  the 
countries  which  furnish  troops  for  pay,  were  themselves  in- 
terested in  the  war  !  What  an  advantage  it  was  in  such  a 
case,  not  only  to  devolve  upon  others  the  expenses  of  a  war, 
in  which  they  could  not  have  avoided  taking  a  part  but  also 
to  contribute  towards  keeping  it  at  a  distance  from  their  own 
frontiers ;  for  which  object  scarcely  any  sacrifice  is  too  great 
for  small  and  weak  states  to  make. 

England  had  already,  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  war, 
concluded  some  negotiations  with  Hesse  and  Denmark  for 
auxiliary  troops.  But  as  an  active  participation  in  the  con- 
tinental war  was  decided  upon  when  Carteret  succeeded 
Walpole  in  office,  and  as  Denmark  also  renewed  her  treaty, 
a  Hanoverian  corps  of  16,000  men  was  taken  into  British 
pay.  How  much  it  contributed  to  the  successful  issue  of 
the  war,  particularly  at  the  battle  of  Dettingen,  is  well 
known.  Yet  never  have  the  measures  of  government  during 
the  whole  period  of  the  house  of  Hanover  excited  a  more 
violent  opposition  than  at  that  time,  when  the  quiet  specta- 
tor would  certainly  least  have  expected  it.  Never  were  the 
old  objections  more  vehemently  and  unbecomingly  re-echoed 
than  at  that  juncture. 

We  shall  be  disappointed  if  we  expect  to  find  in  any  Brit- 
ish historian,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  a  dispassionate  and  im- 
partial examination  of  this  opposition.  The  positions  from 
which  they  set  out  render  this  impossible.  They  have  the 
interests  of  England  alone  in  view,  and  perhaps  not  merely 
is  a  disregard  of  them,  of  which  they  themselves  cannot  quote 
any  well-grounded  proof,  an  offence  in  their  eyes,  but  even 
the  attempt  to  identify  the  interests  of  England  and  Hanover. 

But,  naturally  asks  the  impartial  inquirer,  had  your  kings 
then  ceased  to  be  electors  of  Hanover  ?  Is  it  to  be  supposed 
that  England  had  demanded  this  from  them  ?  Had  they  in 
that  capacity  no  duties  towards  their  German  subjects,  for 
which  they  were  responsible  ?  Did  they  owe  them  no  pro- 
tection, as  far  as  negotiation  and  continental  connexions 
could  afford  it  ?  It  is  scarcely  credible  how  far  and  in  what 
tone  such  claims  have  been  urged  in  England.  A  person 
must  have  read  the  parliamentary  speeches  of  those  times, 


432 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


433 


particularly  in  the  Upper  House/  in  order  to  form  a  con- 
ception of  the  furious  diatribes,  full  of  ebullitions  of  the 
coarsest  national  pride,  and  of  the  grossest  insults,  against  a 
people  which  stand  connected  with  them  by  so  many  ties. 
Time  itself  has  given  perhaps  too  complete  a  refutation  to 
those  fictions  of  projects  formed  for  the  extension  of  the 
electorate,  which,  whenever  the  slightest  step  was  taken,  or 
only  presumed  to  be  taken,  for  the  advantage  of  Hanover, 
were  again  revived. 

But  in  order  to  estimate  duly  those  objections,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  trace  them  to  their  genuine  sources.  They  origin- 
ated much  less  in  conviction  than  in  party  spirit.  It  was 
the  cry  of  the  opposition  which  succeeded  at  that  time,  after 
having  put  down  Walpole,  in  gaining  over  to  itself  the  great 
mass  of  the  nation.  Where  could  they  more  readily  find 
materials  for  their  speeches  than  here,  where  they  never 
failed,  as  soon  as  they  set  out  on  mere  selfish  principles? 
It  is  not  the  design  of  this  dissertation  to  give  an  account  of 
that  opposition  in  detail.  Otherwise  readers  who  are  not 
conversant  with  the  history  of  those  times,  would  behold 
with  amazement  the  degree  of  blindness  and  fatuity  to  which 
the  rage  of  faction  can  lead. 

The  history  of  England  during  the  18th  century  is  as  rich 
as  any  other,  and  perhaps  richer,  in  instances  of  great  virtues 
and  great  achievements ;  but  there  is  one  aspect  in  which  a 
man  of  right  feeling  cannot  contemplate  it  for  the  most  part 
without  abhorrence.  It  is  not  the  opposition  itself,  without 
which  no  political  liberty  can  exist ;  neither  is  it  the  ebul- 
lition of  party  spirit,  which  at  certain  periods  is  inseparable 
from  it,  with  which  I  find  fault.  Even  that  disgust  which 
arises  from  the  reiterated  and  incessant  clamour  frequently 
raised  on  the  most  trivial  occasions  about  the  impending 
ruin  of  the  state,  which  never  ensued,  may  be  overcome. 
But  it  is  that  melancholy  and  so  often  recurring  spectacle, 
of  men,  themselves  of  the  highest  talents  and  character,  who, 

'  In  the  years  1742  and  1743,  during  the  ministry  of  Carteret,  the  discharge 
of  the  Hanoverian  corps  in  the  British  service  is  the  constant  topic  of  the 
rival  speakers.  This  corps  constituted  at  that  time  almost  the  half  of  the  al- 
lied army,  and  the  consequences  of  their  dismissal  may  easily  be  calculated. 
I  question  whether  the  whole  range  of  history  has  produced  a  similar  ex- 
ample of  the  mastery  of  passion  over  sound  reason  amongst  people  who  called 
themselves  statesmen. 


t 


I 


calling  their  selfishness  patriotism,  speak  in  despite  of  their 
better  conviction  ;  who  censure  every  measure  of  the  minis- 
ter, because  it  is  his  measure ;  whilst  in  every  instance  their 
object  is  not  to  promote  the  interests  of  the  state,  but  to 
force  themselves  into  power.  The  conduct  of  the  first  Wil- 
liam Pitt,  whom  England  still  regards,  with  justice,  as  the 
first  of  her  statesmen,  while  he  was  in  opposition  against 
Walpole,  a  circumstance  on  which  he  himself  afterwards 
always  looked  back  with  self-reproach,  may  be  mentioned 
as  an  example.  The  true  character  of  the  opposition  is 
said  to  be  a  continual  censure  of  the  minister.  But  a  cen- 
sure which  only  finds  fault,  and  is  always  finding  fault,  loses 
its  power,  and  does  not  attain  its  object.  This  perverse 
spirit  of  the  opposition  is  mainly  instrumental  in  giving  to 
the  government  such  excessive  and  increasing  power.  The 
opposition  had  often  prevailed  in  England,  and  forced  the 
minister  from  his  ground,  when  the  evil  was  already  past ; 
but  was  seldom  or  never  able  to  prevent  the  execution  of 
perverse  measures  at  the  right  time. 

The  history  of  the  Austrian  war  of  succession  interests  us 
here  only  on  account  of  the  consequences  resulting  from  it 
to  the  British  continental  policy.  As  soon  as  the  old  en- 
mity between  France  and  Austria  revived,  not  only  was  the 
ancient  connexion  between  this  power  and  England  renewed, 
but  similar  connexions  were  likewise  formed  on  the  conti- 
nent, as  in  the  reign  of  William  and  Anne.  The  king  of 
Sardinia  was  by  the  treaty  of  Worms  the  ally  of  England  in 
Italy,  on  condition  of  receiving  subsidies ;  the  republic  of 
the  United  Netherlands  was  likewise  drawn  into  the  war, 
and  since  the  peace  of  Dresden,  in  1745,  England  herself 
also  entered  into  a  friendly  connexion  with  Frederic  II. 

The  course  of  the  inquiry  demands  from  us  something 
more  than  a  passing  notice  of  the  conduct  pursued  by  that 
great  prince  in  this  eventful  period.  Properly  speaking  it 
was  he,  who  in  this  war  constructed  a  new  political  system, 
since  the  conquest  of  Silesia  laid  the  foundation  of  that  ri- 
valry which  subsisted  between  Austria  and  Prussia,  and 
which  became^  subsequently,  for  more  than  ten  years,  the 
hinge,  as  it  were,  on  which  the  politics  of  Europe  turned. 
The  later  history  of  Frederic  may  perhaps  afford  more  valu- 
able lessons  in  the  arts  of  war  and  of  government ;  but  in 

2    F 


434 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


435 


politics,  provided  that  his  claims  to  Silesia,  which  we  cannot 
here  undertake  to  estimate,  shall  be  considered  justifiable, 
this  earlier  period  will  be  found  most  replete  with  instruc- 
tion. His  conduct,  if  we  consider,  how  in  1740  he  at  first 
single-handed  took  up  arms,  how  he  allied  himself  with 
France,  and  yet  so  early  as  1742  concluded  a  treaty  for  him- 
self alone ;  how  two  years  later  he  again  took  up  arms ; 
again  allied  himself  with  France,  and  yet  after  only  sixteen 
months  again  abandoned  her ;  affords  a  novel,  one  may  say  a 
startling,  exhibition.  But  we  must  take  a  complete  survey  of 
the  order  of  his  external  relations  at  that  time,  and  above  all 
of  those  with  France,  w^hose  design  of  effecting  the  annihila- 
tion of  the  Austrian  monarchy  by  no  means  coincided  with 
his  own,  in  order  to  understand  and  admire  him.  The  art, 
till  then  unknown  in  Europe,  of  concluding  alliances  without 
committing  one's  self,  of  remaining  unfettered  while  appar- 
ently bound,  of  seceding  when  the  proper  moment  is  arrived, 
can  be  learnt  from  him  and  only  from  him.  Indeed  this  seems 
to  have  become  lost  to  posterity ;  yet  it  could  scarcely  be 
otherwise ;  for  his  whole  policy  was,  in  the  first  place,  not  a 
consequence  of  the  superiority  of  his  genius,  but  of  the  in- 
dependence of  his  character,  which  certainly  could  not  be 
transmitted  by  hereditary  succession.  Hence  that  intrepidity 
of  conduct ;  that  freedom  which  characterized  every  move- 
ment ;  that  straightforwardness,  which  was  not  on  that  ac- 
count unaccompanied  by  cunning  ;  in  a  word,  that  supe- 
riority over  his  contemporaries,  which  displayed  itself  not 
less  in  the  cabinet  than  in  the  field  of  action.  Hence  no 
trace  of  that  base  womanish  policy  which  cringes  before  a 
more  puissant  adversary,  in  order  occasionally  to  defy  a 
weaker,  which  has  no  higher  object  than  to  thread  its  path 
through  the  relative  circumstances  of  the  day,  and  which 
would  be  ready  on  the  morrow  to  solemnize  a  thanksgiving, 
if  it  has  but  escaped  to-day  unscathed  by  them.  The  im- 
mutable truth,  that  independence  of  character  is  of  more 
value  in  negotiation  than  brilliant  talents,  and  rises  in  im- 
portance proportionately  to  the  eminence  of  the  station  in 
which  the  possessor  is  placed,  no  one  has  more  strikingly 
attested  by  his  own  example  than  Frederic  at  that  period. 

He  understood  precisely  the  nature  of  his  own  wishes, 
and  retired  from  the  theatre  of  war  as  soon  as  (by  the  treaty 


14 


of  Dresden,  Dec.  25,  1745)  his  objects  were  attained.  The 
war  was  continued  three  years  longer  by  the  other  leading 
powers,  with  what  view  it  is  diflicult  to  say,  unless  we  take 
into  account  the  passions  which  were  excited  by  events 
which  occurred  in  the  interval.  France  had  as  little  rea- 
son to  flatter  herself  with  the  prospect  of  annihilating  the 
Austrian  monarchy,  as  of  snatching  away  the  imperial  crown 
from  Francis  I.  after  he  had  once  been  elected,  and  recog- 
nised also  by  Frederic.  And  however  brilliant  her  victories 
in  the  Netherlands  were,  experience  nevertheless  showed 
that  she  could  not  calculate  upon  achieving  any  permanent 
conquests  here.  All  parties  eventually  concurred  in  a  peace,^ 
because  all  were  exhausted.  What  were  the  results  of  this 
to  England?  It  is  notorious  that  England  gained  no  in- 
crease of  territory  by  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle.  But  it 
would  be  great  perverseness  to  seek  materials  for  blame  in 
this  fact.  The  war  was  not  commenced  with  a  view  to  con- 
quest, but  to  support  Austria  against  France.  This  object 
was  attained ;  and  any  peace  may  well  be  termed  a  good 
peace,  by  which  the  object  which  has  induced  a  person  to 
undertake  a  war  is  attained.  It  is  true  that  this  is  not  the 
general  opinion,  which  estimates  the  advantages  solely  by 
the  conquests  achieved.  The  more  rare  the  virtue  of  inde- 
pendence is,  the  more  frequently  do  we  experience  that 
schemes  of  ambitious  projects  are  first  excited  during  wars ; 
and  these,  by  their  prolongation,  then  become  the  scourge 
of  nations.  This  war,  however,  had  attached  to  it  other 
consequences  of  greater  moment  to  the  policy  of  England. 

The  first  of  these  was  the  more  intricate  complication  of 
the  colonial  interest  with  the  political  relations  of  Europe. 
No  war  which  England  ever  carried  on,  had  so  extensively 
affected  the  colonies  as  this.  The  war  with  Spain  naturally 
made  the  West  Indies  and  the  American  sea  the  scene  of 
her  enterprises ;  but  the  East  Indies  Hkewise  became  now 
for  the  first  time  the  theatre  of  action  for  the  British  and 
French.  Two  of  the  most  extraordinary  men,  Labourdon- 
mis  and  Dupleii\  had  already  prepared  the  way  for  acquir- 
ing a  dominion  there,  which,  if  it  had  depended  upon  herself 
alone,  would  probably  have  secured  to  France  the  possession 
of  India.     The  jealousy  of  the  British  was  aroused ;  hostili- 

'  At  Aix-la-Chapelle,  April  30,  1748. 
2  F  2 


436 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


437 


ties  broke  out  there  likewise ;  and  although  the  conquests 
which  had  been  made  were  resigned  on  both  sides  at  the 
peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  the  spark  of  discord  remained 
nevertheless  unextinguished,  and  in  each  of  the  subsequent 
wars,  India,  as  well  as  the  new  world,  became  the  cause  as 
well  as  the  scene  of  contest. 

In  close  connexion  with  this,  was  the  superiority  of  the 
navy  of  England,  which  afterwards  became  so  firmly  estab- 
lished. In  no  previous  war  had  this  ever  risen  to  any  pre- 
eminence above  that  of  her  enemies ;  but  at  the  time  this  war 
broke  out  the  French  navy  had  been  reduced  to  the  lowest 
state  of  decay,  by  the  parsimony  and  supineness  of  Fleury, 
and  during  the  war  was  almost  annihilated.  This  superi- 
ority having  been  once  established,  gave  rise  in  every  new 
war  to  similar  plans,  which  ultimately  led  to  that  exclusive 
dominion  of  the  sea,  which  became  an  object  of  envy  to 
other  powers,  and  the  source  of  so  many  calamities  to 
Europe. 

In  the  next  place,  the  relations  of  England  with  the  con- 
tinental states  seemed  now  for  a  considerable  time  to  be 
determinately  settled.  Her  newly-revived  rivalry  with 
France  had  given  rise  to  the  connexion  with  Austria ;  and 
the  duration  of  the  latter  seemed  likely  to  be  commensurate 
with  the  former.  The  sources  of  dispute  with  Spain  were 
not  only  stopped,^  but  the  personally  favourable  inclination 
of  Ferdinand  VI.,  the  successor  of  Philip  V.,  since  1743,  gave 
England  power,  if  not  as  an  ally,  at  least  as  a  friend,  in 
Spain.  On  a  similar  footing  were  the  relations  with  Prussia 
placed.  With  the  republic  of  the  Netherlands,  however, 
they  had  not  merely  continued  the  same,  but  had  become 
more  close.  If  the  reciprocal  connexion  of  both  powers  was 
before  founded  on  their  rivalry  with  France,  the  revolution 
in  the  constitution  (which  took  place  during  this  war)  gave 
rise  to  new  ties.  It  is  well  known  that  in  the  year  1747,  on 
the  advance  of  the  French  army  into  the  Austrian  Nether- 
lands, the  hereditary  dignity  of  Stadtholder  in  the  United 
Provinces  was  revived  in  favour  of  William  IV.,  the  son-in- 
law  of  George  II. ;  and  the  powerful  influence,  or  rather 
the  sovereignty,  of  the  house  of  Orange  was  again  firmly 
established.     After  a  war  which  had  been  carried  on  and 

'  By  the  treaty  at  Buenretiro,  October  5,  1750. 


i 


terminated  in  common,  the  continuance  of  the  existing  con- 
nexion was  in  itself  quite  natural,  but  that  which  was  now 
derived  from  family  connexions  added  a  new  link.  Lastly, 
this  war  had  besides  strengthened  the  connexion  with 
Russia.  Maria  Theresa  had  succeeded  in  winning  over 
Russia  to  her  side ;  and  Germany  was  for  the  first  time 
visited  by  a  Russian  army  in  the  year  1748,  in  consequence 
of  a  subsidy  treaty  which  had  been  concluded  with  England 
and  Holland.  Nevertheless  this  first  interference  of  Russia 
in  the  affairs  of  Western  Europe,  was  of  short  duration ;  the 
age  had  not  yet  arrived  when  the  maintenance  of  the 
balance  of  power  was  in  her  hands. 

In  the  years  immediately  subsequent  to  the  war,  especially 
after  definitive  arrangements  had  been  entered  into  with  Spain, 
England  was  more  engrossed  with  domestic  and  financial 
affairs  than  with  the  transactions  of  foreign  countries ;  and 
by  the  reduction  of  the  interest  of  the  national  debt,  to  three 
per  cent,  Pelham^  erected  a  more  glorious  monument  to  his 
ministry  than  any  victories  in  the  field  could  have  raised. 
Meanwhile,  the  consequences  of  the  system  established  by 
Frederic  II.,  by  which  the  maintenance  of  the  balance  in  the 
German  empire  between  Austria  and  Prussia  was  regarded 
as  the  foundation-stone  of  the  balance  of  Europe,  began  also 
to  develope  themselves.  It  might  naturally  be  expected 
that  England  would  adhere  to  its  ally  Austria  ;  and  it  seemed 
the  more  natural  as  the  occupation  of  East  Friesland,  which 
had  been  evacuated  about  this  time,  and  the  disputes  about 
the  Embden  East  India  Company  soon  after,  had  produced 
a  great  coolness  between  George  II.  and  Frederic.  But  the 
mode  of  proceeding  then  adopted  by  the  British  cabinet, 
put  arms  into  the  hands  of  the  opposition  which  they  knew 
how  to  wield  with  great  dexterity.  Maria  Theresa  had  al- 
ready conceived  the  wish  of  preserving  the  regal  diadem  of 
Rome  for  her  son  Joseph,  who  was  yet  a  minor  ;  and  Eng- 
land not  only  supported  this  scheme,  but  also  dispensed  her 
subsidies  with  a  lavish  hand  among  the  electors,  in  order  to 
accomplish  it.  With  the  elector  of  Bavaria,  the  Palatinate, 
Saxony,  and  Cologne,  treaties  were  either  actually  concluded 

'  Pelham,  and  his  brother  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  next  or  subordinate  to 
him,  stood  at  the  head  of  the  administration  when  Carteret  went  out  of  office, 
1744,  till  the  death  of  Pelham,  1754. 


438 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


or  subsidies  promised  them,  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  their 
votes.  It  is  surprising  to  hear  even  Pitt  himself  speak  in 
favour  of  the  treaty  with  Bavaria/  because,  as  he  expresses 
it,  that  state  would  thereby  be  drawn  away  from  the  French 
interest.  Whether  England  had  any  reason  at  all  for  em- 
broiling herself  so  deeply  in  the  affairs  of  Germany  is  a  ques- 
tion which  we  need  not  here  determine ;  the  principle  that 
it  should,  certainly  prevailed  in  the  British  cabinet.  But 
these  subsidies,  (as  Horace  Walpole  so  bitterly  complains,^) 
not  only  failed  in  their  object,  for  Frederic  II.  knew  how  to 
frustrate  all  these  plans,  but  kept  open  the  breach  with 
Prussia  at  a  moment  when  there  was  the  strongest  reason 
for  avoiding  one.  It  was  a  striking  instance  of  the  abuse  of 
subsidies. 

But  that  great  change  which  was  so  extensively  prepar- 
ing at  this  time  in  the  political  relations  of  the  continent, 
and  which  soon  actually  ensued,  quickly  diverted  attention 
from  the  election  of  a  king  of  the  Romans  to  more  import- 
ant objects,  nor  could  it  fail  to  effect  a  change  in  the  policy 
of  England. 

The  approximation  and  close  connexion  which  imme- 
diately ensued  between  France  and  Austria,  was  an  occur- 
rence which  seemed  to  mock  all  the  calculations  of  the 
politician.  No  step  of  the  French  cabinet  has  been  more 
frequently  and  severely  censured ;  and  if  we  take  into  con- 
sideration her  next  object,  the  making  war  upon  and  anni- 
hilating Frederic  II.,  none  was  ever  more  justly  censured. 
But  the  German  writers  and  journalists,  who  have  so  often 
repeated  these  strictures,  ought  not  to  forget  that  they,  at 
least,  have  had  the  greatest  cause  to  be  thankful  for  it.  Was 
not  indeed  that  prosperous  period  of  almost  thirty  years 
which  occurred,  even  though  Frederic  II.  had  come  off  vic- 
torious in  the  struggle,  and  which,  upon  the  whole,  was  the 
most  prosperous  and  flourishing  that  Germany  had  ever  en- 


'  Life  of  William  Pitt,  i.  p.  1 14. 

^  An  admirable  exposition  of  the  British  continental  relations  at  that  pe- 
riod, particularly  in  respect  to  these  points,  will  be  found  in  the  memoir  which 
Horace  Walpole  at  that  time,  1751,  caused  to  be  laid  before  the  Cabinet. 
Coxe^s  Memoirs  of  Horace  Walpole,  p.  386,  sq.  Both  before  and  after  the 
treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  he  was  most  zealous  in  an  alliance  with  Frederic 
II.,  but  to  no  purpose.  He  was  certainly  right  so  far,  that  it  was  unwise  to 
exasperate  him. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


439 


loyed,  to  be  attributed  to  the  good  understanding  between 
France  and  Austria  ? 

This  connexion  between  France  and  Austria,  not  only 
robbed  England  of  her  first  ally,  but  by  reason  of  the  great 
differences  which  had  already  arisen  with  France  herself, 
respecting  the  boundaries  of  Nova  Scotia,  the  forts  in  the 
back  settlements  of  the  North  American  colonies,  and  the 
possession  of  the  neutral  islands  in  the  West  Indies,  rendered 
the  probability  of  war  a  matter  of  almost  absolute  certainty ; 
the  object  of  which,  as  a  continental  war,  would  necessarily  be 
the  abolition  of  the  newly-established  balance  in  Germany, 
by  the  overthrow  of  Prussia ;  and  the  most  important  thea- 
tre of  which,  now  that  the  Austrian  Netherlands  could  no 
longer  serve  as  a  diversion,  must  necessarily  be  Germany. 
George  11.  would  have  to  consider  this  connexion  in  two 
points  of  view,  as  king  of  England,  and  as  elector  of  Han- 
over.   It  would  naturally  be  expected  then  that,  under  this 
coincidence  of  relations,  the  affairs  of  his  German  states 
would  be  first  arranged ;  it  could  only  be  considered  as  a 
fulfilment  of  his  duties  as  regent,  if  he  first  bestowed  his  at- 
tention upon  them.    But  how  could  the  interests  of  Eng- 
land and  Hanover  be  more  identical  than  at  this  time  ?    It 
was  the  only  state  that  could   now  afford   to  England  a 
powerful  ally  on  the  continent,   Frederic  II.;  and  what 
would  have  been  her  situation  after  the  subjugation  of  Han- 
over?   This  truth,  however,  though  clear  as  the  noonday 
sun,  was  far  from  being  generally  recognised  in  England. 
The  old  cry  about  the  Hanoverian  interest  was  agam  set  up. 
Alas  !  even  the  man  who,  as  minister,  afterwards  mamtamed 
the  position  that  America  must  be  conquered  in  Germany, 
at  this  time  arraigned  the  connexion  which  George  II.  sought 
to  establish  on  the  continent  by  means  of  the  subsidy  treaty.' 

•  Pitt,  however,  did  not  speak  in  general  terms.  He  only  censured  the 
connexion  which  George  II.  at  that  time  sought  to  establish  between  Russia 
and  Hesse.  But  who  would  not  wish  himself  to  read  the  very  ^^^^  of  s"ch 
a  man  on  such  an  occasion :  «  It  is  impossible,"  said  he,  "  to  defend  Hanover  by 
subsidies.  An  open  country  cannot  be  protected  agamst  ^  neighbour  who  is 
able  to  fall  upon  it  with  one  hundred  thousand  men,  and  to  send  as  many 
more  after  them.  If  Hanover,  in  consequence  of  her  connexion  with  Great 
Britain,  shall  become  the  object  of  attack,  then  is  it  oWi^tory  ^P<^^;^s  whe^ 
peace  il  restored  to  provide  her  full  indemnification  for  all  the  Ip^ses  she  has 
sustained.  But  the  idea  of  defending  Hanover  by  subsidies  is  "d^^l^^^^^^ 
impracticable."  Life  of  W.  Pitt,  i.  p.  136.  The  exaggeration  of  the  state- 
ment  is  best  refuted  by  the  event. 


440 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


441 


The  first  thoughts  of  the  king  were  directed  to  Russia. 
In  consequence  of  the  subsidies  furnished  to  Russia  in  the 
last  war,  the  presence  of  Russian  troops  in  Germany  was  no 
strange  spectacle,  and  a  treaty  was  concluded  with  Eliza- 
beth to  cover  the  electorate  against  the  invasion  of  the 
French.^  It  may  well  be  doubted  whether  in  the  relations 
of  Russia,  as  they  soon  developed  themselves,  this  object 
would  be  attained,  since  the  French- Austrian  party  pre- 
vailed also  in  Russia.  But  Frederic  II.,  who  understood 
these  relations  too  well  to  admit  Russian  troops  into  Han- 
over, and  was  also  too  well  aware  of  the  consequences  which 
might  result  from  the  occupation  of  that  country  by  a 
foreign  power,  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  influenced  by 
distrust  or  petty  feelings  of  any  kind.  He  engaged  himself 
to  protect  the  neutrality  of  Hanover ;  George  II.  abandoned 
Russia  and  united  with  him,^  as  well  as  with  several  of  the 
neighbouring  princes  of  Northern  Germany. 

The  history  of  the  ever  memorable  war  which  now  broke 
out  belongs  not  to  this  place.  The  glorious  days  of  the 
Frederics  and  Ferdinands  are  past,  and  the  memory  of  them 
is  all  that  is  left  to  us.  Followed  by  almost  all  their  heroic 
comrades,  they  have  long  descended  to  the  shades,  in  order 
to  make  room  for  a  later  generation,  whose  history  will  be 
more  easily  learnt,  from  its  containing  fewer  names  worth 
remembrance. 

But  to  return  to  England.  The  administration  of  this 
kingdom  now  devolved  upon  a  man,  William  Pitt,  after- 
wards Lord  Chatham,^  whom  the  nation  has  never  ceased  to 
remember,  and  whom  we,  if  for  no  other  reason,  must  not 
omit  to  notice,  as  he  was  the  main  stay  of  the  continental 
relations  of  England. 

He  had  entered  parliament  as  early  as  1735,  and  had 
taken  office,  under  the  Pelham  administration,  as  pay- 
master of  the  forces,  which  he  resigned  in  1755.^  He  had 
long  been  a  member  of  the  opposition  against  Walpole ;  but 
his  influence  was  now  become  so  great,  that  not  only  could 
no  administration  hold  together  without  him,  but  even  the 
formation  of  one  was  intrusted  to  him,  because  on  no  other 
terms  would  he  himself  accept  of  place.     Accordingly  a 

»  In  the  spring  of  1755.  *  By  the  treaty  at  Whitehall,  Jan.  15,  1756. 

•  He  was  born  on  17  Nov.  1708,  was  made  Earl  of  Chatham  1766,  and 
died  May  11,  1778.  *  Nov.  20. 


year  had  not  elapsed  before  he  was  called  upon  to  form  an 
administration  (Oct.  20,  1756)  as  secretary  of  state,  when 
the  king  approved  his  proposals  for  filling  up  the  other  ap- 
pointments, which  exalted  post  he  retained  till  Oct.  5,  1761, 
when  he  resigned  upon  finding  that  his  measures  were  not 
supported.     The  five  years  of  his  administration  was  the 
most  brilliant  period  which   Great  Britain  had  yet  seen. 
His  panegyrists  have  not  omitted  to  enumerate  the  many 
battles  which  were  won,  the  ships  which  were  captured, 
the  conquests  which  were  made  during  his  administration  ;^ 
for  although  he  was  not  the  immediate  agent  in  these  victo- 
ries, it  was  through  him  that  they  were  achieved.    His  real 
merit  may  be  comprised  in  two  lines.     By  the  greatness  of 
his  individual  character  he  called  up,  as  by  magic,  the  spirit 
of  his  nation.     He  was  a  man  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
word.    Integrity  and  independence  formed  the  centre  of  his 
whole  moral  system,  from  which  the  rays  of  his  genius  and 
of  his  often  admired  eloquence  emanated  no  less  than  from 
his  sound  political  maxims.  In  proportion  as  he  relied  upon 
himself,  the  nation  learned  to  trust  to  its  own  strength  and 
energies.     Thus  England  became  familiar  with,  and  accus- 
tomed to,  the  most  daring  enterprises ;  thus  became  im- 
proved the  discipline  of  the  army  and  navy ;  and  thus,  above 
all,  became  roused  the  spirit  of  the  nation :  the  minister 
meanwhile  preserving  its  confidence,  by  showing  himself 
anxious  on  every  occasion  to  appear  as  the  champion  of  the 
rights  and  power  of  the  people,  in  the  constitutional  sense 
of  the  word,  rather  than  as  one  who  wished  to  court  the 
favour  of  the  prince,  by  taking  every  opportunity  to  extend 
the  rights  and  power  of  the  crown.     It  was  therefore  an 
essential  element  in  the  character  of  Pitt,  that  he  should  in 
his  general  policy  show  little  inclination  towards  the  system 
of  subsidies  and  mercenary  troops,  inasmuch  as  it  might 
paralyse  the  self-confidence  and  independent  energy  of  the 
nation.     But  he  exhibited  also  a  proof  that  great  minds  do 
not  blindly  bind  themselves  to  any  particular  maxims.     As 
soon  as  he  could  resort  to  that  system  without  prejudice  to 
those  higher  interests,  he  adopted  it ;  and  the  prudence  with 
which  he  exercised  it  was  as  great  as  its  consequences  were 
fortunate. 

'  A  list  of  them  will  be  found  in  the  Life  of  Pitt,  vol.  i.  p.  198. 


442 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


Never  were  auxiliaries  more  judiciously  employed  than 
those  of  the  allies  at  this  period.  Never  were  subsidies  more 
judiciously  furnished  than  those  which  were  granted  by  Pitt 
to  Frederic  II.  It  is  a  singularly  interesting  spectacle  to 
see  these  two  great  men  united  together,  each  trusting  in 
the  first  place  to  himself  and  acting  for  himself,  without  on 
that  account  overlooking  the  advantages  which  might  be 
derived  from  their  connexion  with  each  other. 

The  British  continental  policy  during  the  seven  years' 
war,  as  long  as  Pitt  held  the  reins  of  government,  may,  ac- 
cording to  my  idea,  be  regarded  as  the  most  perfect  model 
from  which  the  British  cabinet  could  have  drawn  (at  any 
time)  its  fundamental  maxims  in  this  respect, — I  speak  not 
of  the  choice  of  allies ;  this  can  only  in  part  depend  upon 
the  cabinet,  as  the  relations  between  the  powers  of  the  con- 
tinent are  variable, — but  of  its  whole  course  and  method  of 
proceeding.  It  adhered  very  properly  to  the  true  notion  of 
subsidies.  It  afforded  them  to  those,  who  under  the  exist- 
ing relations  were  the  most  natural  allies  of  Great  Britain, 
and  with  whom  it  had  in  general  a  community  of  interest; 
not  to  every  one  who  asked  for  them.  They  were  afforded 
with  the  view  that  those  who  received  them  might  first  of 
all  assist  themselves ;  and  hence  it  was  expected  that  advan- 
tage would  be  indirectly  derived  to  England,  but  not  that 
they  should  forget  themselves  and  first  succour  England. 
More  was  not  promised  than  was  intended  to  be  given,  but 
what  was  promised  was  faithfully  performed.  They  made 
the  weak  strong,  while  they  placed  them  on  a  secure  foot- 
ing, and  supported  them  there  by  uniting  themselves  to 
them.  Thus  might  Pitt  and  Frederic,  both  equally  inde- 
pendent, each  pursue  his  own  course,  without,  by  so  doing, 
destroying  the  perfect  harmony  which  subsisted  between 
them.  Pitt  has  himself,  in  one  of  his  later  speeches,  so  clearly 
defined  the  principles  on  which  he  acted,  and  the  policy 
which  he  pursued  at  this  period,  that  the  reader  would  not 
willingly  forego  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  it  here  introduced.^ 

"  I  have  been  much  abused,  my  Lords,  for  supporting  a 
war,  which  it  has  been  the  fashion  to  call  my  German  war. 
But  I  can  affirm,  with  a  clear  conscience,  that  that  abuse 

'  Life  of  Pitt,  vol.  ii.  p.  221.     The  speech  was  first  delivered  in  the  year 
1770,  in  the  Upper  House. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


443 


has  been  thrown  upon  me  by  men,  who  were  either  unac- 
quainted with  facts,  or  had  an  interest  in  misrepresenting 
them.  I  shall  speak  plainly  and  frankly  to  your  Lordships 
upon  this,  as  I  do  upon  every  occasion.  That  I  did  in  Par- 
hament  oppose,  to  the  utmost  of  my  power,  our  engaging 
in  a  German  war,  is  most  true ;  and  if  the  same  circumstance 
were  to  recur,  I  would  act  the  same  part,  and  oppose  it  again. 
But  when  I  was  called  upon  to  take  a  share  in  the  adminis- 
tration, that  measure  was  already  decided.  Before  I  was 
appointed  secretary  of  state,  the  first  treaty  with  the  king  of 
Prussia  was  signed,  and  not  only  ratified  by  the  crown,  but 
approved  of  and  confirmed  by  a  resolution  of  both  Houses 
of  Parliament." 

"  It  was  a  weight  fastened  upon  my  neck.  By  that  treaty, 
the  honour  of  the  crown  and  the  honour  of  our  nation  were 
equally  engaged.  How  I  could  recede  from  such  an  en- 
gagement ;  how  I  could  advise  the  crown  to  desert  a  great 
prince  in  the  midst  of  those  difficulties,  in  which  a  reliance 
upon  the  good  faith  of  this  country  had  contributed  to  in- 
volve him,  are  questions  I  willingly  submit  to  your  Lord- 
ships' candour.  That  wonderful  man  might,  perhaps,  have 
extricated  himself  from  his  diflSculties  without  our  assistance. 
He  has  talents,  which,  in  every  thing  that  touches  the  hu- 
man capacity,  do  honour  to  the  human  mind.  But  how 
would  England  have  supported  that  reputation  of  credit  and 
good  faith,  by  which  we  have  been  distinguished  in  Europe  ? 
What  other  foreign  power  would  have  sought  our  friend- 
ship ?  What  other  foreign  power  would  have  accepted  of  an 
alliance  with  us  ?  But,  my  Lords,  though  I  wholly  condemn 
our  entering  into  any  engagements  which  tend  to  involve  us 
in  a  continental  war,  I  do  not  admit  that  alliances  with  some 
of  the  German  princes  are  either  detrimental  or  useless. 
They  may  be,  my  Lords,  not  only  useful,  but  necessary." 
Not,  as  he  further  observes,  to  introduce  foreign  auxiliaries 
into  England,  which  is  strong  enough  to  protect  itself,  but 
into  Ireland  to  defend  it  from  invasion. 

The  connexion  with  Prussia  and  her  allies  was  not,  how- 
ever, the  only  new  feature  which  the  seven  years'  war  pro- 
duced in  respect  to  the  British  continental  relations.  One 
other  was  this,  that  the  republic  of  the  United  Netherlands, 
notwithstanding  its  intimate  relations  with  England,  had  the 


444 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


option  of  remaining  neutral  in  this  war,  which  it  had  not  in 
any  preceding  one.  But  the  connexion  between  France 
and  Austria  would  necessarily  affect  in  some  degree  the  con- 
duct of  this  republic,  and  weaken  its  connexion  with  England. 
In  the  revolutions  of  the  continent  it  had  only  one  para- 
mount interest,  the  continuance  of  the  existing  condition  of 
the  Austrian  Netherlands.  As  long  as  these  provinces  con- 
tinued in  the  possession  of  a  distant  power,  they  served  them 
as  a  bulwark  with  or  without  fortified  places.  Under  the 
existing  relations  these  could  not  become,  as  formerly,  the 
scene  of  hostilities ;  France  had  by  her  connexion  with  Aus- 
tria discarded  all  designs  upon  them  ;  and  therefore  for  the 
republic  this  connexion,  viewed  in  this  light,  must  have  been 
a  most  felicitous  occurrence.  But  the  advantageous  effects 
of  this  neutrality  upon  its  commerce,  which  even  excited  the 
envy  of  England,  are  well  known.  What  an  era  might  this 
have  been  for  the  republic,  if  it  had  not  been  long  afflicted 
with  disorders  which  no  remedial  measures  could  now  coun- 
teract ! 

These  changes  in  her  relations  with  other  powers,  rendered 
it  unnecessary  for  England  to  establish  any  federal  connexions 
in  Italy,  such  as  it  had  formed  with  Sardinia  during -previous 
wars.  It  was  during  the  negotiations  for  peace  in  1762, 
that  recourse  was  first  had  to  this  country  as  mediator, 
and  that  not  in  vain.  But  England  had  still  remaining 
another  ancient  ally  who  was  drawn  with  her  into  the  vortex 
and  required  assistance — Portugal. 

It  has  been  already  shown,  in  its  proper  place,  when  and 
how  the  connexion  with  this  state  arose,  and  became  estab- 
lished. Since  the  treaty  of  Utrecht  it  had  kept  up  a  highly 
advantageous  connexion,  in  a  commercial  point  of  view,  for 
England,  without  any  important  poUtical  consequences  re- 
sulting from  it  during  the  long  period  of  peace  which  Por- 
tugal enjoyed.  Even  the  plans  of  Pombal  could  not  have 
dissolved  or  materially  affected  it.  But  the  closer  connexion 
which  through  the  family  compact  drew  Spain  into  the  war, 
was  also  instrumental  in  involving  Portugal  in  it,  and  in 
causing  her  now  to  look  for  assistance  to  her  ancient  ally. 

The  celebrated  family  compact  of  the  Bourbons  appeared 
in  the  result  to  confirm  the  fears  which  had  been  entertained 
during  the  war  of  the  Spanish  succession,  and  at  the  peace 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


445 


of  Utrecht.  Although  the  crowns  of  France  and  Spain  re- 
mained separate,  yet  the  interests  of  both  powers  were  inti- 
mately united.  How  little,  however,  hitherto,  had  the  fears, 
which  were  cherished  on  that  account,  been  justified  by  the 
event ;  Spain  would  have  been  unavoidably  obliged  to  take 
part  with  France  in  the  war,  but  this  had  as  yet  only  served 
to  enable  England  to  support  herself  at  the  cost  of  Spain, 
and  to  keep  her  sailors  in  good  humour  by  the  rich  prizes 
which  they  captured.  This  last  was  perhaps  the  niost  im- 
portant advantage  which  she  gained.  By  privateering  and 
plunder,  individuals  enriched  themselves ;  but  no  nation  has 
ever  acquired  by  such  means  a  single  permanent  advantage. 

The  effects  of  the  family  compact^  then  were  even  already 
apparent ;  England  became  unavoidably  involved  in  a  war 
with  Spain,  and  since  Portugal  was  now  threatened  with  an 
attack  from  the  same  quarter,  not  only  were  British  aux- 
iliaries sent  to  Spain,  but  also  a  German  commander.  Count 
William  of  Lippe  BUckeburg,  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  seven 
years'  war.  Although  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  recast  the 
nation  in  a  new  mould,  he  nevertheless  stamped  the  recol- 
lection of  himself  indelibly  upon  it.  Who  is  there  even  now 
in  Portugal  who  has  not  heard  of  the  great  Count.  The 
country  escaped  from  the  war  uninjured  ;  and  the  connexion 
with  England  had  become  strengthened. 

But  one  consequence  of  the  family  compact,  though  ac- 
cidental, yet  much  more  momentous  as  regards  the  conti- 
nental policy  of  England,  was  the  secession  of  Pitt  from  the 
ministry.  However  secret  the  conclusion  of  that  treaty  had 
been  kept  in  Spain,  with  the  view  of  gaining  time,  in  order 
to  secure  to  themselves  the  treasures  from  America,  Pitt  had 
nevertheless  been  able  to  procure  intelligence  of  their  pro- 
ceedings. His  anxious  wish  was,  as  might  have  been  expected 
from  a  man  of  his  character,  to  anticipate  Spain,  and  imme- 
diately to  declare  war  upon  her,  which  he  saw  to  be  inevit- 
able. But  he  was  not  believed,  and  was  in  consequence 
outvoted.  Not  accustomed  to  capitulate  when  convinced 
he  was  right,  he  turned  his  back  and  retired.^ 

His  prediction  was  fulfilled,  and  England  soon  saw  her- 

•  Signed  on  Aug.  10,  1761,  but  still  kept  secret  The  very  first  two  articles 
of  the  treaty  contained  an  offensive  and  defensive  alliance,  and  a  reciprocal 
guarantee  for  all  possessions.  ^  October  5,  1761. 


446 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


447 


self  obliged  to  declare  war.  But  although  even  now  the 
short  war  with  Spain  had  been  prosecuted  with  the  greatest 
success,  the  retirement  of  Pitt  had  such  an  effect  on  the 
measures  of  the  British  cabinet,  that  the  whole  of  his  system 
of  continental  policy,  as  yet  scarcely  matured,  necessarily  fell 
to  the  ground.  It  ceased,  however,  to  take  an  active  part 
in  the  continental  war,  the  subsidies  to  Frederic  II.  were 
discontinued,  and  England  concluded  a  peace  for  herself 
without  paying  that  regard  to  her  ally  which  he  might  with 
justice  have  demanded. 

Viewed  in  the  light  of  a  mere  temporary  advantage,  this 
conduct  of  the  British  cabinet  may  admit  of  some  vindica- 
tion ;  but  on  the  principles  of  a  higher  policy  it  cannot  pos- 
sibly be  defended.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  assertion 
of  Pitt,  that  Frederic  II.,  if  left  entirely  alone,  would  be  able 
to  extricate  himself  from  all  embarrassment,  was  now  veri- 
fied ;  but  if  this  be  granted,  would  it  not  have  been  more 
consonant  to  the  principles  of  sound  policy,  for  England  to 
have  allowed  her  connexions  with  Prussia  to  continue  as 
long  as  the  intimate  relation  between  Austria  and  France 
should  exist.  Would  England  have  obtained  a  peace  on 
less  favourable  terms  if  she  had  concluded  it  in  conjunction 
with  Frederic  ?  It  was  only  owing  to  a  fortunate  combination 
of  circumstances  that  no  new  relations  occurred  to  render 
his  assistance  necessary  for  England.  His  aversion  to  this 
state  was  afterwards  perhaps  too  deeply  rooted  to  admit  of 
being  ever  again  eradicated. 

England,  therefore,  after  the  seven  years'  war  stood  alone 
without  allies,  or  at  least  without  powerful  ones ;  and  had, 
after  the  prostration  of  that  power  which  opposed  and  rival- 
led her,  no  immediate  cause  for  seeking  new  connexions. 
During  the  profound  peace  which  the  west  of  Europe  so 
long  enjoyed,  no  such  exigence  arose.  The  activity  of  the 
nation  was  confined  at  first  to  its  own  domestic  affairs; 
since  the  well-known  disputes  with  Wilkes  brought  questions 
into  agitation  which  seriously  affected  the  rights  of  the  Up- 
per House.  The  contest  with  Spain  about  the  Falkland 
Islands  (1770)  produced  only  threats,  but  no  hostilities ;  the 
disputes  which  commenced  with  the  colonies  in  North 
America  soon  engrossed  universal  attention.  The  particu- 
lars of  the  dispute  as  well  as  the  war  which  ensued  is  foreign 


i 

h 


I  I 


to  the  present  inquiry,  except  so  far  as  continental  relations 
are  concerned.  The  effects  which  it  had  upon  these  were 
manifold.  The  first  was  the  restoration  of  the  subsidy  sys- 
tem. From  the  moment  it  was  decided  to  send  an  army 
over  to  America,  the  need  of  foreign  assistance  was  sensibly 
felt.  The  assertion  of  Lord  Chatham,  "  that  cases  may  occur 
in  which  connexion  with  German  princes  could  not  be  dis- 
pensed with,"  is  again  applicable  here.  He  certainly  had 
not  anticipated  such  a  case  as  the  present,  and  could  not 
have  alluded  to  the  contest  which  broke  out  with  America 
on  the  subject  of  exemption  from  taxation.^  Once  admit- 
ting however  (which  I  am  very  far  from  maintaining)  that 
it  was  politic  to  attempt  the  subjugation  of  America  by 
force,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  mercenary  aid  was  the 
best  resource  which  could  be  adopted.  The  lives  of  their 
own  men  were  thereby  spared — lives  which  a  state  like 
England  could  least  of  all  afford  to  lose. 

Further,  although  this  war  did  not  give  rise  to  a  conti- 
nental war  in  Europe,  yet  it  did  to  one  amongst  the  Euro- 
pean powers,  as  France  took  part  with  America,  and  Spain, 
by  virtue  of  the  family  compact,  was  also  necessarily  drawn 
into  it.  America  was  merely  a  secondary  stage  for  these 
powers,  the  war  between  them  was  almost  entirely  a  colo- 
nial one,  for  which  new  materials  had  been  accumulating 
ever  since  the  treaty  of  Paris.  One  of  the  greatest  evils 
that  disturbs  the  European  system  is  that  interniixture  of  its 
colonies,  naturally  occasioned  by  their  geographical  position. 
This  was  the  principal  cause  of  the  seven  years'  war,  and, 
although  the  peace  which  put  an  end  to  it,  and  by  which 
France  was  completely  dispossessed  of  its  continental  pos- 
sessions in  North  America,^  was  in  some  measure  a  remedy 
for  this  evil,  it  nevertheless  contributed  in  other  respects 

'  The  opinions  of  Chatham  respecting  America  may  be  gathered  from  the 
bill  which  he  proposed  to  the  Upper  House,  but  without  success,  Feb.  1,  177^, 
after  the  disturbances  had  broken  out.  It  will  be  found  in  Life  of  Pitt,  ii. 
p.  129.  The  colonies  w^ere  to  remain  dependent,  but  to  have  the  privilege  of 
taxing  themselves  by  their  provincial  assemblies.  The  congress  at  Philadel- 
phia, which  had  already  assembled,  was  to  settle  the  division  of  the  taxes 
among  the  provinces,  and  to  determine  the  sum  which  each  was  to  contribute 
towards  the  liquidation  of  the  national  debt  in  England.  Even  Chatham 
could  not  rise  sufficiently  high  to  take  an  enlarged  view  of  the  immeasur- 
able advantage  which  would  result  to  England  from  the  complete  liberation 
of  America. 

^  After  that  it  ceded  Louisiana  also  to  Spain,  1765. 


448 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


449 


rather  to  aggravate  it.  The  power  of  the  British  and  the 
French  was  now  nearly  equally  balanced  in  the  West  Indies, 
but  in  the  East  from  the  time  England  established  herself  at 
Bengal,  (1763,)  the  preponderance  was  clearly  in  her  favour. 
France  nevertheless  still  retained  hopes  of  being  able  to  re- 
store the  balance,  as  she  had  found  an  ally  in  one  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  interior,  who,  from  personal  interest,  was  ne- 
cessarily hostile  to  England,  and  had  already  discovered  the 
means  of  setting  her  at  defiance.  The  East  Indies  thus  be- 
came the  principal  theatre  of  the  war,  and  in  spite  of  every 
effort  they  would  have  been  lost  to  England,  if  a  better 
arrangement  in  the  organization  of  the  East  India  Company, 
by  the  concentration  of  the  four  presidencies  under  one 
governor-general,  and  the  bill  of  Pitt,  had  not  rendered 
them  politically  independent  of  the  government. 

The  colonial  war,  moreover,  cost  England  a  political 
friend  on  the  continent,  by  the  republic  of  the  United  Ne- 
therlands becoming  implicated  in  it.  England  certainly  lost 
nothing  by  this  war  ;  she  conquered  St.  Eustace,  Trincono- 
male,  Negapatuam ;  the  last  of  which  she  retained  to  the 
peace.  But  this  rupture  with  the  republic  was  connected 
with  another  event,  which  was  necessarily  of  critical  im- 
portance to  England. 

England  by  this  war  became  involved  in  a  contest  with 
all  the  maritime  powers  of  Europe,  and  was  singly  a  match 
for  them  all.  It  was  indeed  a  signal  proof  of  the  rapid  ad- 
vance she  had  made  since  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  that 
she  was  now  mistress  of  the  seas,  although  as  yet  she  was  far 
from  asserting  a  dominion  over  them.  But  when  once  her 
energies  were  directed  to  this  object,  circumstances  naturally 
arose  out  of  her  attempt,  which  exposed  England  to  the 
danger  of  being  involved  more  extensively  with  the  greatest 
part  of  the  continent.  It  was  not  enough  to  cripple,  or  even 
to  destroy  the  enemies'  fleets,  unless  she  effectually  prevented 
them  from  refitting  and  building  new  ones.  Their  capa- 
bilities of  doing  this  however  depended,  for  the  most  part, 
on  their  interference  with  neutral  powers,  from  which  France 
would  be  obliged  to  procure  the  necessary  materials.  This 
was  one  reason  for  her  oppression  of  neutrals  and  the  ob- 
structing of  their  navigation ;  but  these  arbitrary  proceed- 
ings necessarily  became  extended  beyond  all  bounds  as  soon 


as  the  annihilation  of  the  enemy's  commerce  and  the  endea- 
vour to  appropriate  it  to  themselves  (two  facts  inseparable 
from  the  sovereignty  of  the  sea)  became  their  avowed  object. 
In  wars  of  earlier  times,  the  commerce  of  belligerent  powers 
had  escaped  under  the  protection  of  neutral  flags,  and  al- 
though the  celebrated  maxim,  free  ship,  free  cargo,  had 
always  been  but  doubtfully  maintained,  the  dispute  could 
never  become  of  much  practical  importance  until  some  one 
maritime  power  felt  itself  sufficiently  strong  to  maintain  the 
<jontrary.  But  this  unjust  oppression,  for  such  the  conduct 
of  England  was  felt  to  be,  was  not  submitted  to  without  re- 
sistance; Catharine  II.  set  on  foot  the  armed  neutrality,' 
which  the  northern  powers,  and  even  Portugal,  joined ;  and 
Holland  herself  would  have  acceded  to  it,  if  England  had 
not  anticipated  her  doing  so  by  a  declaration  of  war. 

The  armed  neutrality  was  a  phenomenon  from  which 
England  might  have  derived  important  lessons ;  but  she  did 
not.  Submission  then  was  absolutely  necessary,  unless  she 
was  willing  to  incur  the  danger  of  being  involved  in  a  war 
with  the  whole  of  Europe;  this  submission,  however,  was 
made  in  silence,  unaccompanied  by  any  formal  recognition 
of  the  principles  which  had  been  set  up.  All,  therefore, 
that  remained  was  an  association  which  could  only  be  of 
practical  utility  during  the  continuance  of  the  war.  The 
indispensable  need  of  a  maritime  law  of  nations  was  more 
sensibly  felt  than  ever ;  and  Catharine  had  loudly  proclaimed 
it  by  that  association  ;  but  here,  as  usual,  the  policy  adopted 
was  merely  to  serve  a  temporary  purpose ;  and  of  what  use 
could  a  maritime  law  of  nations  on  paper  be  when  the  want 
of  it,  in  time  of  peace,  should  cease  to  be  felt,  and  which,  it 
was  obvious,  in  time  of  war  would  be  made  subservient  to 
the  convenience  of  individual  states  ? 

But  another  effect  of  this  war  upon  the  continental  policy 
of  England  was  her  altered  relations  with  the  Netherlands. 
Internal  tranquillity  was  by  no  means  restored  in  that  coun- 
try by  the  peace,  and  England  even  found  an  opportunity 
thereby  of  maintaining  her  influence  over  it. 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  in  the  history  of  the  con- 
tinental policy  of  England,  that  although  she  was  so  deeply 
involved  in  the  affairs  of  foreign  countries,  yet  during  the 

•  In  the  year  1781. 
2  G 


450 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


451 


whole  period  of  the  house  of  Hanover,  (it  may  be  said  too 
even  of  the  Stuarts,)  in  no  one  of  them  was  the  spirit  of 
party  either  fostered  or  excited  thereby.  What  a  different 
spirit  had  France  excited  in  Sweden,  and  Russia  in  Poland ! 
This  consequence  may  indisputably  be  ascribed  to  the  fact 
that  England  required  no  party  aid  for  the  attainment  of  her 
object,  but  merely  the  support  of  the  administration  ;  and  in 
some  measure  to  the  existing  relations  of  that  period,  which 
gave  little  encouragement  to  party  spirit  in  the  countries 
with  which  England  stood  connected.  I  have  no  wish, 
therefore,  to  pass  any  encomium  on  the  more  exalted  moral- 
ity of  the  British  minister  on  that  ground  ;  but  I  am  prepared 
to  prove  that  the  interference  of  England  in  the  affairs  of 
foreign  powers,  was  hitherto  much  less  dangerous  to  their 
object  than  the  influence  of  the  continental  powers  upon 
one  another. 

The  events  which  occurred  in  the  United  Netherlands 
formed  at  the  time  we  speak  of  an  exception.  As  during 
the  last  war  this  state  had  leagued  itself  with  France,  and  as 
that  power  found  an  opportunity  to  do  her  some  essential 
services  during  her  quarrel  with  Joseph  II.,  it  could  not  be 
difficult  for  the  French  ministry  to  maintain  for  itself  a  party 
here ;  and  this  party,  under  the  name  of  the  patriotic  party, 
stepped  forward  as  an  antagonist  of  the  house  of  Orange, 
without  knowing,  as  far  as  could  be  discerned,  any  thing- 
more  determinate  as  to  its  real  object. 

The  moment  at  which  England  might  probably  have  at- 
tached to  herself  the  republic,  with  less  galling,  but  cer- 
tainly more  lasting  bonds,  as  afterwards  happened,  would 
have  been  the  moment  of  the  peace.  But  this  moment  was 
neglected !  When  could  generosity  towards  an  old  friend, 
with  whom  she  had  only  occasionally  fallen  out,  have  been 
more  properly  evinced  than  here?  Yet  so  far  was  she  from 
acting  in  this  spirit,  that  she  forcibly  dispossessed  Holland 
of  one  of  her  colonies,  Negapatuam  ;^  a  colony  of  no  incon- 
siderable importance;  and  was  only  with  difficulty  prevented 
from  depriving  her  of  another,  Trinconomale.  By  this  im- 
politic harshness  the  republic  was  driven  to  conclude  a 
peace  through  the  mediation  of  France ;  and  it  was  made 
abundantly  evident  that,  as  colonial  aggrandizement  became 

'  In  the  treaty  of  peace  of  May  20,  1784. 


the  point  at  issue,  no  compunction  would  be  shown  by 
England  in  despoiling,  even  with  her  own  hands,  her  ancient 
ally  ;  and  that  she  only  waited  for  an  opportunity  to  extend 
further  her  rapacity.  Thus,  then,  she  deprived  herself  for 
ever  of  the  confidence  of  a  nation  with  which  she  had  so 
long  been  in  close  and  amicable  connexion,  in  a  manner 
which  made  its  renewal  impossible; — what  was  the  equivalent? 

The  ferment  at  home,  however,  certainly  made  it  neces- 
sary for  the  Orange  party  to  attach  itself  to  England,  since, 
during  the  life  of  Frederic  II.,  it  found  no  other  support. 
But  even  this  support  was  of  little  help  to  it.  The  British 
cabinet  did  not  find  it  advisable  to  afford  any  efficient  assist- 
ance, when  the*  prerogatives  of  the  hereditary  stadtholder 
were  one  after  another  infringed  and  contracted  ;  and  it  be- 
came highly  probable  that  he  would  have  been  entirely  dis- 
possessed of  his  dignity,  if  Prussia  had  not  adopted  a  change 
in  her  policy. 

It  is  well  known  under  what  circumstances,  and  with  what 
result,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1787,  the  commotions  in 
Holland  were  suppressed  by  the  entrance  of  a  Prussian 
corps,  and  the  stadtholder  reinstated  and  confirmed  in  the 
full  exercise  of  his  power. 

England,  up  to  the  present  time,  had  remained  without 
any  considerable  ally  on  the  continent.  But  the  change 
which  we  have  just  mentioned  gave  rise  to  another  alliance, 
which  was  not  without  important  consequences  to  Europe. 
England  and  Prussia  both  united  themselves  with  Holland ; 
they  had  the  same  common  object  in  view,  that  of  supporting 
her  newly  given  or  restored  constitution,  and  this  common 
point  of  contact  soon  brought  on  an  alliance  between  these 
two  powers.^ 

The  connexion  of  Prussia  with  Holland  was  a  conse- 
quence of  family  interest,  the  further  consideration  of  which 
would  be  irrelevant  to  this  inquiry.  With  regard  to  England, 
the  affinity  with  her  was  not  sufficiently  close  to  allow  us  to 
attribute  to  this  source  the  interest  which  she  took  in  the 
affairs  of  this  country.  Although  the  reigning  houses  were 
connected,  the  motive  by  which  she  was  more  immediately 
actuated  in  the  part  she  took,  was  the  desire  of  counteract- 
ing French  influence  by  the  depression  of  the  patriotic  party. 

•  By  the  treaty  of  the  13th  of  August,  1788. 

2  G  2 


452 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


453 


But  surely  the  moment  at  which  the  peace  was  concluded 
would  have  been  more  favourable  for  this  purpose  than  the 
present.  England  certainly  could  not  view  the  fate  of  the 
republic  with  indifference.  She  necessarily  wished  to  see 
her  independence  maintained  ;  but  the  compulsory  re-estab- 
lishment of  a  form  of  government,  to  which  a  great,  perhaps 
the  greater,  part  of  the  nation  were  vehemently  opposed, 
could  not  possibly  be  considered  as  a  firm  foundation  of  her 
independence.  She  united  herself  in  this  way  with  the  go- 
vernment which  she  restored,  but  not  with  the  nation.  Expe- 
rience has  shown  the  dangerous  consequences  of  such  policy. 

By  this  triple  alliance,  however,  the  connexion  of  England 
with  Prussia  was  renewed,  though  the  basis  on  which  it 
rested  was  not  formed  on  so  extended  a  community  of  in- 
terest as  under  Frederic  II.  The  maintenance  of  the  stadt- 
holdership  in  the  Netherlands  could  not  possibly  become  of 
sufficient  importance  to  both  these  powers,  to  form  a  per- 
manent bond  of  union  between  them.  Chatham,  with  his 
principles,  would  never  have  concluded  the  alliance  which 
his  son  concluded ;  still  less  would  he  have  approved  the 
consequences  which  followed  it. 

These  consequences  displayed  themselves  chiefly  in  the 
east  of  Europe.  The  representation  which  we  have  already 
given  has  shown  the  little  share  England  had  taken  in  the 
events  of  those  parts  since  the  peace  of  Nystadt.  Her  com- 
merce was  carried  on  there  without  molestation ;  the  grow- 
ing prosperity  of  Russia  had  favoured  it,  without  becoming 
formidable  to  England.  In  the  mean  time  the  most  decisive 
changes  had  taken  place  in  these  quarters,  such  as  the 
foundation  of  the  independence  of  the  Crimea,*  the  appear- 
ance of  Russian  fleets  in  the  Mediterranean,^  and  even  the 
first  partition  of  Poland,^  without  any  active  manifestation 
of  opposition  on  the  part  of  England.  The  British  cabinet 
felt  itself  too  little  interested  in  them ;  it  had  no  political 
connexion  either  with  Poland  or  with  Turkey,  and  had  no 
engagements  to  perform  to  either ;  the  trade  with  the  Baltic, 
and  that  with  the  Levant,  by  no  means  considerable,  was 
not  affected ;  and  those  countries  in  general  lay  beyond  the 
circuit  of  its  political  sphere  of  action.  Whether  therefore 
her  policy  in   this  respect  was  exceptionable  or  not  may 

'  In  the  year  1771.     *  In  the  year  1770.     '  In  the  year  1772. 


admit  of  doubt,  although  an  action  which  set  at  nought  the 
hitherto  recognised  law  of  nations  could  not  be  a  matter  of 
indifference  even  to  England.  Her  policy  can  only  be  ex- 
cused on  the  ground  that  she  connived  at  what  she  could 
not  hinder.  But  after  the  triple  alliance  her  former  maxims 
of  policy  were  evidently  changed,  and  England  sought  not 
only  to  obtain  an  influence  over  the  affairs  of  those  countries, 
but  even  assumed  a  tone  of  dictation.  If  we  may  credit 
French  authors,^  she  was  actuated  by  a  jealousy  of  the 
treaty  of  commerce,  which  Russia  had  concluded  with 
France,  1787,  by  which  France  had  been  greatly  favoured ; 
in  consequence  of  this,  England  herself  felt  an  inclination 
to  do  every  thing  to  involve  Russia  in  a  war  with  Turkey, 
which  it  is  well  known  broke  out  1788.  The  truth  of  this 
unauthenticated  assertion  may  reasonably  admit  of  doubt ; 
but  that  the  British  policy  here  stepped  beyond  its  proper 
sphere,  that  England  had  thought  herself  able  to  dictate 
where  dictation  was  not  to  be  dreamt  of — of  this  the  minis- 
try were  soon  to  experience  a  painful  conviction. 

The  mediation  of  England  at  the  congress  of  Reichen- 
bach,  1788,  was  not  without  advantage ;  but  when  the  Brit- 
ish cabinet  wished  likewise  to  dictate  to  Catherine  II.  the 
conditions  of  peace  with  Turkey,  she  declared  that  she  con- 
cluded peaces  only  for  herself;  nor  was  she  alarmed  at  the 
demonstration  made  by  the  equipment  of  a  fleet;  she 
actually  concluded  the  peace  at  Jassy^  for  herself,  and  on 
the  terms  she  wished,  and  the  British  cabinet  gained  no 
more  from  its  threats  than  the  knowledge  that  it  had  threat- 
ened to  no  purpose. 

The  first  object  to  which  the  exertions  of  every  cabinet 
should  be  directed  would  seem  to  be,  to  comprehend  clearly, 
and  to  determine  precisely,  the  proper  course  of  action 
which  its  position  and  strength  point  out  to  it ;  and  thence 
to  deduce  the  fundamental  maxims  of  its  foreign  policy. 
This  assertion  will  not  be  supposed  to  imply  that  such  a 
theory  should  be  openly  paraded,  as  it  were,  and  be  laid 
down  in  public  declarations ;  but  the  fact  that  every  state, 

Compare  Segur,  Histoire  de  Frederic  Guillaume,  vol.  ii. 

The  29th  of  December,  1790.  The  empress  retained  in  it  the  district  on 
the  Neister,  instead  of  the  old  boundary  which  England  had  wished  to 
prescribe. 


454 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


however  powerful,  has  certain  definite  limits  to  which  its 
sphere  of  action  should  be  confined,  is  an  immutable  truth  • 
and   he  who  would  deny  the  conclusions  drawn  from  it 
would  be  guilty  of  an  absurdity.    Yet  if  we  look  into  his- 
tory, how  seldom  do  we  find  this  truth  kept  in  view !  How 
many  unsuccessful  plans  and  undertakings  do  we  discover 
which  it  were  easy  to  see  beforehand  could  not  succeed! 
Indeed  it  would  seem  to  require  nothing  more  than  sound 
common  sense,  and  a  moderate  degree  of  intelligence,  to 
determine  the  sphere  of  action  to  which  a  nation  should 
confine    itself     But   still  we   must  not  forget  to  take  in 
account  the  great  influence  of  the  passions  upon  politics, 
and,  above  all,  the  exaggerated   conception,  which  every 
minister  is  prone  to  form,  of  the  importance  of  the  state  at 
the  head  of  which  he  is  placed,  in  order  to  explain  the  many 
disastrous  errors  from  which  scarcely  any  state  has  kept 
itself  wholly  exempt.   Even  England  did  not  exhibit  at  this 
period  the  only  example  of  this  kind.    Justice,  however, 
assuredly  demands  of  us  to  remark,  that  it  is  much  more 
difficult  for  a  maritime  and  commercial  state  to  determine 
the  boundaries  of  its  interests  and  its  sphere  of  action,  than 
it  is  for  a  continental  one.     Not  only  the  direct,  but,  still 
more,  the  indirect  points  of  contact  are  here  so  numerous, 
the  calculation  of  how  much  damage  may  be  inflicted  on 
other  powers  by  its  fleets,  is  made  on  no  determinate  data, 
and  is  on  that  account  in  the  highest  degree  indeterminate. 
The  indirect  damage  is  greater  than  the  direct;  and  the 
state  is  so  much  misled  by  an  exalted  opinion  of  its  own 
power,  as  to  think  itself  still  greater,  and  its  own  influence 
more  decisive  than  it  really  is,  and  from  its  nature  can  be. 

We  have  thus  far  traced  the  continental  policy  of  Eng- 
land up  to  the  period  at  which,  by  the  great  revolutions  of 
Europe,  not  only  the  triple  alliance  last  concluded  was 
dissevered,  but  all  political  relations  were  at  once  violently 
rent  asunder,  and  then  forcibly  joined  together  again  by 
new  ties,  which,  after  such  sanguinary  conflicts,  could  not 
keep  together  the  contracting  parties  for  any  length  of  time. 
How,  under  such  circumstances,  could  the  former  rela- 
tions of  England  be  maintained?  It  was  not,  however, 
merely  a  change  in  individual  instances  which  they  under- 
went,   but   the    whole   system   of  her   continental    policy 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


455 


assumed  a  different  form.  On  this  account  then  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  pause  here  awhile  in  order  to  review  some 
p-eneral  results,  for  which  the  previous  investigations  will 
afford  materials. 

Our  statements  have  shown  that  England  was  certainly 
involved  in  the  affairs  of  the  continent,  sometimes  more  and 
sometimes  less,  without  ever  being  entirely  disengaged  from 
them.  But  if  we  make  some  allowance  for  the  period  of 
the  quadruple  alliance  under  George  I.,  England  was  very 
far  from  having  ever  been,  or  having  ever  claimed  to  be, 
the  dominant  power  in  the  political  system  of  Europe.  The 
internal  relations  of  this  system  were  not  in  general  deter- 
mined by  England,  but  England  rather  determined  her  own 
conduct  by  them.  This  was  precisely  the  reason  why  the 
continental  policy  of  England  so  seldom  proceeded  on  solid 
principles.  How  far,  however,  this  should  be  made  a  matter 
of  reproach  to  the  British  cabinet,  requires  a  close  investiga- 
tion. To  settle  permanently  the  reciprocal  relations  of  the 
continental  powers  was  throughout  beyond  the  capacity  of 
England.  It  would  have  been  a  foolish  and  vain  presump- 
tion to  attempt  it.  For  this  very  reason  then  she  could  dis- 
cover no  durable  and  solid  basis  for  her  federative  system, 
in  respect  to  the  choice  of  her  allies.  England  was  not,  like 
France  and  Prussia,  and  other  countries,  surrounded  by 
weaker  states,  which  she  might  attach  to  herself  by  means 
of  her  preponderating  influence ;  she  was  obliged  to  seek 
out  allies  for  herself;  and  could  not  even  make  the  ties 
which  bound  her  to  the  most  powerful  of  all,  to  Austria,  in- 
dissoluble. England,  from  her  position,  can  only  have 
allies  which  are  separated  from  her  by  the  sea.  If  they  are 
among  the  weaker  states,  such  as  Holland,  Portugal,  and 
Sardinia,  they  are  from  their  very  nature  more  likely  to  be 
under  the  influence  of  their  immediate  neighbours  than  hers; 
if  they  are  among  the  more  powerful,  as  Austria  and  Prussia, 
the  connexion  will  only  subsist  so  long  as  it  afford  some 
point  of  common  interest.  England  therefore  has  not  the 
power  to  construct  a  federative  system  as  the  powers  of  the 

continent  have. 

But  though  we  cannot  with  justice  cast  any  imputation 
on  England  for  the  change  which  she  made  in  the  choice  of 
her  allies,   (if  she  erred  in  that,  she  committed  political 


456 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


errors,  for  which  she  would  have  to  atone,)— the  non-per- 
formance of  engagements  for  which  she  had  made  herself 
responsible  certainly  exposes  her  to  merited  censure.     In 
the  three  great  continental  wars  in  which  England  took 
part,  the  Spanish,  the  Austrian  war  of  succession,  and  the 
seven  years'  war,  she  concluded  every  time  a  peace  for  her- 
self, or  only  in  connexion  with  Holland,  and  deserted  her 
prmcipal  confederates.     This  conduct  did  not  originate  in 
any  refined  policy,  systematically  taken  up,  nor  in  a  dere- 
liction of  public  faith  and  confidence ;  but  in  the  change  of 
political  principles,  which,  according  to  the  general  spirit 
of  the  British  constitution,  is  almost  inseparably  connected 
with  a  change  of  ministry.     In  none  of  these  cases  did  the 
mmister  who  begun  the  war  bring  it  to  a  close ;  his  sue- 
cessor  generally  belonged  to  the  opposite  party,  and  there- 
fore brought  with  him  the  opposite  principles.     The  influ- 
ence and  power  of  the  premier  in  England  does  not  trench 
at  all  upon  the  personal  character  of  the  regent,  as  it  does 
in  unlimited  monarchies ;  but  emanates  immediately  from 
the  spirit  of  the  constitution,  from  the  relation  between  the 
king  and  his  parliament,  between  whom  the  minister  is  the 
connecting  link.   Without  him  therefore  nothing  of  import- 
ance can  be  done.     Hence  arises  what  is  certainly  a  most 
pernicious  consequence  in  respect  to  foreign  powers,  that 
the  British  government  cannot  guarantee,  with  the  'same 
assurance  as  others,  the  performance  of  its  obligation.    The 
periods  of  Marlborough  and  Chatham  exhibit  a  proof  of 
this.     But  then,  again,  on  the  part  of  continental  powers, 
physical  impossibilities  may  occur,  from  extreme  distress  or 
total  subjugation,  to  prevent  the  fulfilment  of  their  engage- 
ments, a  case  which  can  scarcely  be  supposed  to  occur  with 
respect  to  England. 

Notwithstanding  this  one  real  defect,  which  attaches  to 
the  policy  of  England,  her  continental  influence  seems  upon 
the  whole,  throughout  this  period,  to  have  been  highly  bene- 
ficialm  a  twofold  point  of  view.  In  the  first  place,  Europe 
was  indebted  to  it,  during  a  considerable  period,  for  the 
maintenance  of  peace.  That  this  was  the  object  of  the  Brit- 
ish policy  under  George  I.,  and  continued  to  be  so,  as  loner 
as  circumstances  permitted,  under  George  II.,  has  been 
already  shown.     It  was  therefore  any  thing  but  a  hostile 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN 


457 


influence.  In  the  second  place,  in  the  great  wars  in  which 
England  took  part,  she  uniformly  supported  the  weaker 
against  the  more  powerful.  She  connected  herself  with 
Austria  in  the  early  wars,  and  in  the  later  with  Prussia,  as 
these  monarchies,  one  after  the  other,  seemed  threatened  to 
be  destroyed  by  confederated  Europe.  Both  might  possibly 
have  saved  themselves  without  the  co-operation  of  England  ; 
but  the  merit  of  England  must  not,  on  that  account,  be  de- 
preciated. She  materially  contributed,  perhaps  in  a  greater 
degree  than  any  other  European  power,  to  uphold  the  poli- 
tical balance  of  Europe. 

SIXTH  PERIOD. 
PERIOD  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION,  1788— I8I5. 

We  have  still  to  consider  the  last  period  of  the  British 
continental  policy,  which,  though  not  the  most  extensive, 
is  unquestionably  the  most  interesting,  both  as  respects 
England  herself,  and  the  continent  of  Europe.  In  respect 
to  England  herself,  because  it  is  distinguished  by  the  most 
remarkable  development  of  her  energies ;  in  respect  to  the 
continent,  because  England  became  in  it  the  centre  and  the 
only  unshaken  support  of  the  still  existing  political  system 
of  Europe  ;  and  because  she  determined  and  influenced  the 
politics  of  other  cabinets  much  more  decisively  than  she 
had  ever  done  in  any  former  period.  Never  has  the  truth 
of  the  observation  with  which  we  commenced  this  inquiry, 
"that  it  is  a  highly  advantageous  circumstance  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  liberty  and  independence  of  a  states- 
system,  that  one  of  its  principal  members  should  be  an  in- 
sular state  and  in  possession  of  a  naval  force,"  been  more 
strikingly  demonstrated  than  in  this  period.  If  a  bridge  had 
been  thrown  across  the  Channel  how  totally  different  might 
have  been  the  fate  of  England  and  of  Europe  !  We  cer- 
tainly do  not  entertain  the  slightest  doubt  that  England, 
even  in  this  case,  would  have  remained  unconquered,  or 
that  the  invasion  of  a  French  army  would  eventually  have 
ended  in  its  destruction  ;  and  simply  because  the  warlike 
energies  of  the  nation  would  in  that  case  have  been  more 
generally  roused  and  concentrated,  and  more  resolutely  dis- 
played. But  the  destiny  of  the  British  state,  at  least,  if  not 
of  the  British  people,  is  now  so  entirely  identified  with  the 


458 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


459 


security  of  the  capital,  that  the  consequences  of  its  capture, 
or  even  of  its  being  exposed  to  any  imminent  danger  of 
capture,  are  incalculable ;  and  who  will  venture  to  assert 
that  in  such  a  case  its  security  would  have  remained  unen- 
dangered,  or  that  even  a  conquest,  though  perhaps  only 
momentary,  could  have  been  averted,  especially  as  to  this 
point  all  the  powers  of  the  foe  would  have  been  undoubt- 
edly directed. 

The  relations  of  England  with  the  continent  at  the 
period  of  which  we  speak,  were  determined  by  a  man,  who, 
in  the  double  capacity  of  first  lord  of  the  treasury  and 
chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  directed  the  helm  of  the  state 
as  premier,  and  who  enjoyed  the  full  confidence  of  his 
sovereign — William  Pitt.'  When  scarcely  arrived  at  man- 
hood—when only  twenty-four  years  of  age — he  was  raised 
to  this  exalted  post,  and  had  already  held  it  six  years  when 
the  French  revolution  broke  out,  which  soon  placed  even 
England  in  a  position  that  would  not  allow  her  to  be  a 
mere  spectator.  At  this  early  period  of  his  life  this  extra- 
ordinary man  displayed  not  only  wonderful  talents  and 
intelligence,  but  what  was  of  much  greater  consequence,  a 
maturity  of  understanding  and  judgment  which  seemed  far 
beyond  his  years ;  and  these  qualifications  were  combined 
with  an  energy  of  character  equally  remarkable.  Several 
of  his  contemporaries,  his  opponents  and  rivals,  might  pos- 
sess more  brilliant  talents,  but  none  could  vie  with  him  in 
clearness  of  intellect,  in  decision  of  purpose,  and  devotion  to 
his  country.  He  was  a  perfect  statesman,  in  the  noblest 
sense  of  the  word  ;  and  what  Plutarch  says  of  Pericles,  that 

*  William  Pitt,  the  younger  son  of  the  Earl  of  Chatham,  was  born  on  the 
28th  of  May,  1759.  He  was  indebted  for  his  early  education  to  his  father, 
and  the  subsequently  appointed  bishop  of  Winchester ;  and  for  his  further 
tuition,  especially  in  classical  literature,  philosophy,  and  eloquence,  to  Eton 
School  and  Cambridge.  He  entered  the  Lower  House  as  early  as  his  22nd 
year,  on  the  23rd  of  Jan.  1781,  as  member  for  Appleby;  and  delivered  his 
first  speech  on  the  26th  of  February,  on  the  better  regulations  of  the  civil 
list,  by  which  he  immediately  excited  general  attention.  He  entered  the 
mmistry  for  the  first  time  as  early  as  July,  1782,  under  the  Earl  of  Shelburne, 
as  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  ;  but  upon  his  retirement  from  office,  March 
14,  1783,  he  also  resigned  ;  until,  after  the  dismissal  of  Lord  North  and  Fox, 
Dec.  23,  1783,  he  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  administration,  as  first  lord 
of  the  treasury  and  chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  which  distinguished  post 
he  retamed  till  his  voluntary  resignation  on  the  9th  of  February,  1801  •  and 
resumed  the  second  time  from  the  25th  of  May,  1804,  until  his  death '23rd 
of  January,  1806. 


he  was  only  to  be  seen  when  going  to  the  Senate  House  or 
returning  from  it,  may  with  the  strictest  justice  be  applied 
to  him.  His  poHcy  it  will  be  the  object  of  the  following 
inquiry  to  set  forth.  According  to  our  professed  design  we 
are  certainly  principally  concerned  with  his  foreign  policy ; 
but  this  nevertheless  stands  so  closely — so  almost  inseparably 
connected  with  his  domestic  administration,  that  we  must  be 
permitted  at  least  to  cast  an  occasional  glance  at  that.  Here, 
however,  alas !  we  have  too  much  occasion  to  regret  the 
scantiness  of  our  materials.^  Of  his  public  parliamentary 
career  our  information  is  sufficiently  ample,  but  for  all  that 
relates  to  the  whole  internal  mechanism  of  his  financial  ad- 
ministration, for  all  that  relates  to  the  manner  in  which  Pitt 
conducted  this,  and  especially  for  all  that  relates  to  the  ex- 
traordinary simplification  of  the  business  of  the  treasury,  his 
eminent  services  in  which  respect  have  acquired  for  him 
such  imperishable  fame,  where  can  we  find  any  accurate  in- 
formation? The  account  of  his  foreign  policy,  however, 
must  be  prefaced  by  one  general  observation.  His  conduct 
throughout  was  uniformly  in  accordance  with  his  own  con- 
viction, and  this  is  expressed  in  every  one  of  his  speeches  in 
a  manner  not  to  be  mistaken.  According  to  this  conviction 
the  summum  bonum  for  England  was  the  maintenance  of 
her  constitution.  This  is  therefore  the  hinge  on  which  his 
whole  domestic  policy  during  that  most  eventful  period  re- 
volves. But,  in  the  maintenance  of  this  constitution,  which 
involved  the  condition  of  his  whole  sphere  of  action,  he  had 
m  view  merely  the  means  for  carrying  on  his  foreign  policy ; 
and  thus  both  stand  in  the  closest  reciprocal  connexion. 

When,  in  the  year  1789,  the  opening  of  the  assembly  of 
the  states-general  ushered  in  the  revolution,  the  attention 
of  the  minister  was  more  engrossed  with  domestic  than  with 
foreign  affairs.    The  relations  of  England  with  the  continent 

'  Would  it  be  believed,  that  in  a  country  so  rich  in  biography,  the  first  of 
its  statesmen  has  not  yet  met  with  a  biographer  in  any  degree  worthy  of  him  ? 
According  to  the  public  organs  of  intelligence  we  may  expect  to  have  this 
desideratum  supphed  by  his  tutor  and  friend  the  aged  bishop  of  Winchester ; 
by  which  also  it  is  hoped  a  clearer  light  will  be  diffiised  over  the  simplicity  of 
his  private  life.  The  genuine  portrait  of  this  great  man,  in  which  the  clear- 
ness, composure,  and  energy  of  this  master  spirit  are  so  majestically  expressed, 
IS  rarely  to  be  met  with  on  the  continent ;  whilst  most  of  our  readers  have 
perhaps  seen  it  a  hundred  times  in  miserable  caricatures.  Even  the  collection 
of  the  speeches  of  the  Right  Hon.  William  Pitt,  in  3  vols.  London,  1808,  is  by 
no  means  complete ;  still  it  is  one  of  our  principal  sources  for  what  follows. 


\ 


460 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


461 


were  decisively  influenced  by  the  affairs  of  Holland,  which, 
as  we  have  shown  above,  by  the  restoration  of  the  stadthold- 
ership,  occasioned  a  close  connexion  not  only  with  the  house 
of  Orange,  but  also  with  Prussia,  who  had  effected  this  ob- 
ject by  open  force.  The  interference  of  England  in  the 
affairs  of  the  North,  which  was  a  consequence  of  this,  though 
a  fruitless  one,  and  the  rupture  with  Russia  which  thereupon 
ensued,  have  been  noticed  above.  In  his  domestic  adminis- 
tration, after  completing  the  new  arrangements  for  the 
management  of  the  affairs  of  the  East  India  Company,  in 
accordance  with  the  bill  passed  in  reference  to  them,  the 
minister  was  chiefly  occupied  with  his  financial  measures 
for  the  diminution  of  the  national  debt,  and  for  the  reduction 
of  the  interest  of  the  4  per  cent,  annuities  to  3  per  cent. 
Convinced  that  the  regular  payment  of  the  interest  upon  the 
national  debt  was  not  suflScient  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
national  credit,  but  that  it  was  necessary  to  think  of  paying 
off  the  principal,  he  had,  three  years  before,  by  the  institution 
of  a  sinking  fund,  thrown  out  an  anchor  which  has  since 
given  assumed  stability  to  its  credit.^  This  great  institution 
could  scarcely  begin  to  operate  at  that  time ;  the  contraction 
of  new  debts,  which  a  new  war  rendered  inevitable,  could 
not  therefore  enter  into  the  plan  of  the  minister.  The  ob- 
servation of  a  strict  neutrality  was  consequently  the  policy 
adopted  by  the  minister  during  the  first  and  second  so  called 
Constituent  and  Legislative  Assemblies ;  for  however  imper- 
fect and  exceptionable,  in  many  respects,  the  first  constitu- 
tion might  be,  which  Lewis  XVI.  accepted  and  pledged 
himself  to,  the  British  cabinet,  nevertheless,  abstained  from 
any  interference  in  the  aflfairs  of  France.  But  when,  indeed, 
during  the  session  of  the  second  national  assembly,  political 
principles  of  a  totally  diflferent  character  were  set  forth,  the 
throne  subverted,  the  king  with  his  family  cast  into  prison ; 
when,  moreover,  the  National  Convention,  which  next  fol- 
lowed, abolished  monarchy  and  sent  the  king  to  the  scaffold, 
the  relations  of  the  two  nations  were  disturbed  ;  yet  still  no 
war  ensued,  though  considerations  arose  which  rendered 
other  proceedings  necessary. 

The  question  now  became  one  of  intervention  in  the  do- 
mestic affairs  of  a  foreign  state  :  a  question  which  has  always 

•  26th  of  May,  1786. 


had  its  difficulties,  and  was  perhaps  never  embarrassed  with 
greater  than  in  the  present  instance.  It  was  to  be  decided 
whether  this  intervention  should  be  general,  or  to  what  ex- 
tent it  might  be  carried.  It  was  a  favourite  assertion  of  the 
popular  leader  and  popular  writer  of  that  time,  that  no  fo- 
reign state  ought  to  interfere  in  the  domestic  affairs  of  an- 
other state ;  and  even  now  we  hear  it  asserted,  that  such  an 
interference  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  attack  upon  its  inde- 
pendence and  self-existence.  That  assertion  holds  good,  so 
long  as  it  is  applied  to  states  which,  by  their  geographical 
position  and  political  relations,  stand  separated.  When  re- 
volutions occur  in  China  and  North  America,  it  would  be 
preposterous  to  assert  that  France  or  Austria  are  authorized 

to  interfere. 

The  case,  however,  is  altogether  different  where  states  are 
intimately  related  to  each  other  by  geographical  or  political 
contact,  by  a  common  union,  a  confederacy,  or  a  states- 
system,  as  is  the  case  with  the  states  of  Europe.  Here  the 
domestic  concerns  of  the  one  are  by  no  means  always  indif- 
ferent to  the  other ;  and  cases  may  occur  in  which  interfer- 
ence may  be  inevitable.  If  we  begin  by  taking  a  survey  of 
the  constitution  of  the  different  states,  we  shall  find  that  with 
all  their  individual  varieties,  yet  in  the  system,  taken  as  a 
whole,  either  the  monarchical  or  the  republican  principle  is 
predominant.  The  transition  from  the  one  to  the  other  in 
any  of  the  leading  members  of  the  system,  must  necessarily, 
by  its  unavoidable  influence  upon  the  whole,  excite  just  ap- 
prehensions among  the  others.  Thus  an  interest  is  awakened 
which  may  certainly  still  remain  unaccompanied  by  any  ac- 
tive intervention.  How  intense,  however,  and  how  lively 
must  this  interest  be,  and  how  just  the  apprehension,  when 
the  principles  promulgated  in  the  other  states  are  diametri- 
cally opposed  to  those  which  were  formerly  received,  and 
altogether  irreconcilable  with  them  !  Does  no  common  in- 
terest here  find  a  place?  Would  not  therefore  an  active 
interference  in  such  a  case  become  just?  Would  not  nego- 
tiations here  be  allowed  ?  Would  not  the  revolutionary  state 
feel  at  liberty  to  reject  these,  with  the  contemptuous  answer, 
that  it  would  not  allow  of  any  foreign  intervention  ?  Then 
again,  what  if  these  principles  are  not  only  in  their  nature 
opposed  to  others,  but  at  the  same  time  their  propagation 


\ 


■\ 


:^ 


i%i 


462 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


463 


and  practical  introduction  into  other  states  shall  be  expressly 
determined  upon,  and  loudly  proclaimed?  Does  not  the 
duty  of  self-preservation  then  step  in  ?  Will  it  not  then  be 
requisite  even  to  take  up  arms  in  self-defence,  and  to  com- 
bat those  principles  ? 

These  cases  occurred  as  soon  as  the  French  revolution 
took  its  proper  direction.  This  was  founded  upon  the  sove- 
reignty of  the  people ;  but  the  sovereignty  of  the  people 
stands  in  direct  opposition  to  the  monarchical  principle. 
Now  only  one  sovereign  can  exist  in  a  state,  not  two.  Either 
the  people  are  the  sovereign,  and  then  is  the  state  a  republic, 
or  the  monarch,  whatever  may  be  his  title.  If  he  ceases  to 
be  so,  then  he  sinks  directly  to  the  level  of  a  mere  magis- 
trate ;  whether  he  preserve  the  title  of  king  or  not.  "  It  is," 
says  Pitt,  in  one  of  those  powerful  speeches,  from  which  I 
shall  have  frequent  occasion  to  quote,  (and  what  higher  au- 
thority can  be  cited  than  that  of  such  a  statesman  at  the 
head  of  the  freest  of  all  monarchies?)  "  It  is  a  gross  perver- 
sion of  the  principles  of  all  political  society,  to  suppose  that 
there  exists  continually,  in  every  government,  a  sovereignty 
in  abeyance  (as  it  were)  on  the  part  of  the  people,  ready  to 
be  called  forth  on  every  occasion,  pr  rather,  on  every  pre- 
tence, when  it  may  suit  the  purposes  of  the  party  or  faction 
who  are  the  advocates  of  this  doctrine,  to  suppose  an  occa- 
sion for  its  exertion.  It  is  in  those  false  principles  that  are 
contained  the  seeds  of  all  the  misery,  desolation,  and  ruin, 
which  in  the  present  day  have  spread  themselves  over  so 
large  a  portion  of  the  habitable  globe.  I  have  said  more 
upon  this  subject  than  I  should  have  thought  necessary,  if 
I  had  not  felt  that  this  false  and  dangerous  mockery  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people  is  in  truth  one  of  the  chief  ele- 
ments of  Jacobinism,  one  of  the  favourite  impostures  to  mis- 
lead the  understanding,  and  to  flatter  and  inflame  the  passions 
of  the  mass  of  mankind,  who  have  not  the  opportunity  of 
examining  and  exposing  it,  and  that,  as  such,  on  everv  oc- 
casion and  in  every  shape  in  which  it  appears,  it  ought  to 
be  combated  and  resisted  by  every  friend  to  common  order, 
and  to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  mankind."^ 

But  if  this  principle  were  directly  opposed  to  the  British 
constitution,  a  constitution  which  is  a  pre-eminent  example 

'  Speeches,  iii.  p.  58,  etc. 


of  a  free  monarchy,  how  much  more  was  it  incompatible 
with  the  constitutions  of  the  principal  states  of  the  continent, 
which  are  either  in  the  class  of  absolute  monarchies  without 
democratic  influence,  or  at  most  belong  to  those  in  which 
the  higher  classes  exercise  in  the  state  assembly  only  a  cer- 
tain, and  for  the  most  part  very  limited,  share  in  the  legis- 
lation. If  in  the  case  of  the  British  state  a  reform  in  the 
constitution  might  possibly  have  been  sufficient,  (though 
even  this  is  scarcely  probable,)  an  entire  change  in  the  con- 
stitution of  those  other  states  must  unavoidably  have  ensued, 
if  the  French  principle  prevailed.  How  just,  therefore,' 
were  the  apprehensions  which  every  where  arose !  Who 
could  determine  how  far  a  doctrine  would  spread,  which  at 
the  same  time  flattered  the  people,  and  was  set  forth  by  its 
originators  as  that  which  alone  was  productive  of  happiness  ? 
But  these  apprehensions  received  a  new  and  formidable  in- 
crease by  the  decree  of  the  Convention,  19th  Nov.  1792, 
which  offered  assistance  from  France  to  all  people,  who,  for  the 
establishment  of  liberty,  i.  e.  democracy,  should  rebel  against 
their  constituted  authorities.  Such  a  summons  to  a  general 
insurrection  is  unparalleled  in  history,  and  if  any  indulged 
the  flattering  hope  that  such  a  decree  would  never  be  exe- 
cuted, it  was  crushed  by  the  new  decree  of  17th  Dec,  which 
enjoined  all  the  generals  of  the  new  republic  to  establish  in 
those  countries  into  which  they  should  carry  their  arms,  a 
democracy  in  place  of  the  pre-existing  constitutions. 

Thus  by  this  decree  was  the  most  sacred  prerogative 
which  nations  possess,  that  by  virtue  of  which  they  form  a 
state,  their  constitution,  threatened  with  annihilation.  In 
their  constitution  was  at  the  same  time  involved  their  inde- 
pendence, because  the  new  constitution  was  prescribed  to 
them.  Can  any  thing  more  be  required  to  justify  the  ruling 
authorities,  if  they  refused  what  was  attempted  to  be  forced 
upon  them  ;  if  they  defended  their  rights ;  if  they  even  took 
up  arms  in  their  defence  ? 

The  foregoing  remarks  apply  to  all  governments ;  we 
now  return  to  England,  to  whose  policy  our  researches  are 
confined. 

Among  the  states  which  formed  the  first  great  confederacy 
agamst  France,  England  was  one  of  the  last,  and  cannot 
therefore  be  regarded  as  the  originator  of  that  confederacy. 


'f 


464 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


As  long  as  Lewis  XVI.  sat  on  the  throne,  all  interference 
in  the  French  affairs  was  carefully  avoided  by  the  British 
government.  The  French  ambassador,  Chauvelm,  remained 
as  representative  of  his  sovereign  in  London,  and  was  re- 
cognised as  such,  as  was  also  the  British  ambassador  in  Paris. 
Indeed,  even  when  the  unfortunate  Lewis  was  torn  from  the 
throne  and  plunged  with  his  family  into  prison,  the  sympa- 
thy of  England  confined  itself  to  the  private  demands  of  her 
ambassador,  whether  he  could  contribute  any  thing  to  re- 
lieve the  wants  of  the  unfortunate  prince.  The  public  rela- 
tions were  not  changed  till  after  the  execution  of  the  royal 
martyr,  and  then  without  a  war.  The  British  ambassador 
was  recalled,  and  the  recognition  of  Baron  Chauvelin,  to 
whom  the  Convention  had  sent  credentials,  was  withheld ; 
he  soon  afterwards  received  orders  to  quit  England. 

These  measures  certainly  not  only  expressed  a  just  ab- 
horrence, which  the  execution  of  the  unfortunate  monarch 
had  excited,  but  they  implied  likewise  a  refusal  to  recognise 
the  newly-constituted  republic,  and  with  it  the  avowal  that 
England  would  not  enter  into  political  relations  with  it. 
Although  the  prospects  were  in  consequence  clouded,  no 
hostilities  immediately  ensued.  It  is  of  great  importance 
for  the  practical  purposes  of  politics,  to  have  a  clear  under- 
standing, that  the  provisional  breaking  off  of  relations  be- 
tween states  does  not  amount  to  a  declaration  of  war.  Nego- 
tiations between  two  states  presuppose  in  both  a  regular 
system  of  government.  How  can  a  government  negotiate 
with  a  state  which  itself  acknowledges  that  it  is  occupied  in 
effecting  a  revolution,  and  wishes  first  to  give  itself  a  new 
constitution,  and  at  the  same  time  a  different  government. 

Other  causes,  however,  soon  concurred  to  render  the  par- 
ticipation of  England  in  the  war  unavoidable.  Notwith- 
standing their  disavowal  of  any  intention  of  aggrandizement, 
the  new  republic  not  only  assumed  the  character  of  a  con- 
queror, but  even  scoffed  at  the  laws  of  nations,  which  had 
been  hitherto  recognised,  by  immediately  appropriating  to 
herself  the  provinces  of  Avignon  and  Savoy,  which  had  been 
taken  from  the  pope  and  king  of  Sardinia.  But  that  which 
more  nearly  concerned  England  was  the  invasion  of  the 
Austrian  Netherlands,  which  followed  in  the  autumn,  1792. 
These  provinces  formed,  as  we  observed  above,  the  bridge 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


465 


which  connected  England  with  the  continent,  and  above  all 
with  Austria.  The  partial  suspension  of  the  embargo  upon 
the  navigation  of  the  Scheldt,  which  rested  on  the  faith  of 
treaties,  was  a  new  specimen  of  the  republican  code  of  in- 
ternational law.  But  that  which  must  have  most  disturbed 
the  tranquillity  of  England  under  the  circumstances  of  those 
times,  was  the  danger  with  which  the  Republic  menaced  the 
United  Netherlands.  At  the  head  of  this  state  stood  the 
house  of  Orange,  which  had  been  for  five  years  past  rein- 
stated in  its  privileges ;  with  this  house  England,  in  con- 
junction with  Prussia,  had  concluded  the  triple  alliance, 
and  in  the  same  had  guaranteed  to  it  its  prerogatives.  It 
was  precisely  against  this  very  house,  that  the  attacks  of 
France,  in  her  desire  to  conciliate  or  maintain  the  support 
of  the  popular  party,  were  directed.  Could  a  war  under 
such  circumstances  be  avoided  ?  Yet  the  war  was  not  de- 
clared by  England,  but  by  France.  The  1st  Feb.,  1793, 
was  the  day  on  which  a  declaration  of  war  was  issued  at  the 
same  time  against  England  and  the  stadtholder. 

"  What  was,"  says  Pitt,  in  one  of  his  early  speeches,  "the 
state  of  this  country  with  respect  to  France,  previous  to  the 
declaration  of  war  on  her  part  ?  We  then  contended,  first, 
that  she  had  broken  a  treaty  with  our  allies,  which  we  were 
bound  to  support :  secondly.  That  she  had  engaged  in 
schemes  of  ambition  and  aggrandizement,  inconsistent  with 
the  interests  of  this  country  and  the  general  security  of 
Europe  :  thirdly.  That  she  had  entertained  principles  hos- 
tile to  all  governments,  and  more  particularly  to  our  own. 
In  consequence  of  all  these  circumstances,  you  then  de- 
clared, in  addresses  to  his  Majesty,  that  if  proper  satisfaction 
was  not  obtained,  a  war  must  be  the  consequence.  But 
while  this  was  in  agitation,  they  had  themselves  declared 
war,  and  been  guilty  of  a  sudden  and  unprovoked  aggres- 
sion upon  this  country." 

"  Acts  of  hostility,"  says  the  minister,  upon  a  later  occa- 
sion, "  had  been  openly  threatened  against  our  allies ;  an 
hostility  founded  upon  the  assumption  of  a  right  which 
would  at  once  supersede  the  whole  law  of  nations :  a  de- 
mand was  made  by  France  upon  Holland,  to  open  the 
navigation  of  the  Scheldt,  on  the  ground  of  a  general  and 
national  right,  in  violation  of  positive  treaty ;  this  claim  we 

2   H 


466 


RISE   OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


467 


discussed,  at  the  time,  not  so  much  on  account  of  its  imme- 
diate importance,  (though  it  was  important  both  in  a  mari- 
time and  commercial  view,)  as  on  account  of  the  general 
principle  on  which  it  was  founded.    On  the  same  arbitrary 
notion  they  soon  afterwards  discovered  that  sacred  law  of 
nature,  which  made  the  Rhine  and  the  Alps  the  legitimate 
boundaries  of  France,  and  assumed  the  power,  which  they 
have  affected  to  exercise  through  the  whole  of  the  revolu- 
tion, of  superseding,  by  a  new  code  of  their  own,  all  the 
recognised  principles  of  the  law  of  nations.     They  were 
actually  advancing  towards  the  republic  of  Holland  by  rapid 
strides,  after  the  victory  of  Jemappe  ;  they  had  ordered  their 
generals  to  pursue  the  Austrian  troops  into  any  neutral 
country  ;  thereby  explicitly  avowing  an  intention  of  invading 
Holland.     They  had  already  shown  their  moderation  and 
self-denial,  by  incorporating  Belgium  with  the  French  re- 
public.    These  lovers  of  peace,  who  set  out  with  a  sworn 
aversion  to  conquest,  and  professions  of  respect  for  the 
independence   of  other  nations ;    who  pretend  that  they 
departed  from  this  system  only  in  consequence  of  your  ag- 
gression, themselves  in  time  of  peace,  while  you  were  still 
confessedly  neutral,  without  the  pretence  or  shadow  of  pro- 
vocation, wrested  Savoy  from  the  king  of  Sardinia,  and  had 
proceeded  to  incorporate  it  likewise  with  France.     These 
were  their  aggressions  at  this  period  ;  and  more  than  these. 
They  had  issued  a  universal  declaration  of  war  against  all 
the  thrones  of  Europe  ;  and  they  had  by  their  conduct,  ap- 
plied it  particularly  and  specifically  to  you  ;  they  had  passed 
the  decree  of  the  19th  February,  1792,  proclaiming  the 
promise  of  French  succour  to  all  nations  who  should  mani- 
fest a  wish  to  become  free  :  they  had  by  all  their  language, 
as  well  as  their  example,  shown  what  they  understood  to  be 
freedom ;  they  had  sealed  their  principles  by  the  deposition 
of  their  sovereign ;  they  had  applied  them  to  England,  by 
inviting  and  encouraging  the  addresses  of  those  seditious 
and  traitorous  societies,  who,  from  the  beginning,  favoured 
their  views,  and  who,  encouraged  by  your  forbearance,  were 
even  then  publicly  avowing  French  doctrines,  and  antici- 
pating their  success  in  this  country  ;  who  were  hailing  the 
progress  of  those  proceedings  in  France,  which  led  to  the 
murder  of  its  king  :  they  were  even  then  looking  to  the  day 


when  they  should  behold  a  National  Convention  in  England, 
formed  upon  similar  principles."' 

After  this,  the  frequently  contested  question,  who  was  the 
originator  of  the  war,  requires  no  further  investigation.* 
Even  if  France  had  not  first  declared  it,  she  would  notwith- 
standing have  been  the  aggressor ;  for  this  charge  attaches 
to  those  who  desire  war  without  provocation.^  Thus  then 
England  enrolled  herself  amongst  the  belligerent  powers. 
It  is  necessary  to  cast  a  glance  at  her  position  at  that  time 
with  regard  to  the  continent. 

Austria,  Prussia,  Sardinia,  and  some  of  the  German  states, 
and  soon  after  the  whole  empire,  were  already,  at  this 
period,  in  a  state  of  war  with  France.  It  was  easy  at  the 
same  time  to  foresee  that  other  states  would  take  up  arms, 
partly  in  self-defence,  partly,  as  was  the  case  with  Spain, 
from  indignation  at  the  execution  of  the  king.  But  at  this 
critical  juncture,  the  system  of  standing  armies  had  been 
carried  on  by  the  principal  states  of  the  continent  to  a  degree 
which  was  no  longer  consistent  with  their  resources.  These 
scarcely  suflficed  to  keep  the  great  mass  of  stipendiary  forces 
from  mutiny.  The  extraordinary  expenses  of  the  war  ex- 
ceeded the  resources  of  the  states,  and  rendered  it  impossible 
to  employ  the  whole  force  which  they  had  under  arms, 
England,  in  respect  to  naval  power,  might  with  good  reason 
calculate  upon  vanquishing  and  possibly  annihilating  the 
fleets  of  France ;  and  thus  pave  the  way  for  the  conquest  of 
her  colonies.  But,  however  alluring  these  prospects  might 
be,  she  could  not  flatter  herself  with  the  hope  of  thus  bring- 
ing the  war  to  a  termination.  Those  conquests,  however  well 
they  might  have  succeeded,  could  only,  as  Pitt  himself  ex- 
presses it,^  have  a  collateral  influence.  France  at  that  period, 
besides  having  been  already  by  her  own  fault  deprived  of  her 
most  valuable  colony,  St.  Domingo,  did  not  attach  so  much 
importance  to  the  rest,  as  would  have  been  the  case  in  earlier 

'  Pitt's  Speeches^  iii.  p.  97. 

^  A  work,  expressly  on  this  subject,  appeared  from  the  pen  of  an  English- 
man, Herbert  Marsh,  upon  the  causes  of  the  war  between  England  and 
France.   Leipsig,  1796. 

'  Which  party,  whether  the  Girondists,  as  is  asserted,  or  the  violent  Ja- 
cobin party,  made  the  declaration  of  war,  is  of  no  importance  in  the  solution 
of  this  question.  And  can  it  be  supposed  that  the  last  were  deterred  by  any 
other  motive  than  because  the  time  did  not  seem  opportune  ? 

*  Speeches,  1.  c. 

2  H  2 


468 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


469 


times.  The  contest  must  be  decided  by  a  land,  and  not  by 
a  naval  force,  and  the  formation  of  a  league  with  the  con- 
tinental powers  was  the  natural  consequence.  A  series  of 
alliances,  from  Portugal  to  Russia,  followed  in  the  same  year, 
1793.  In  order  to  estimate  these,  and  to  form  an  opinion 
of  the  general  conduct  of  Pitt,  we  must  place  ourselves  in 
his  position.  England  certainly  was  in  a  certain  sense  the 
centre  of  the  first  league  against  France ;  but  this  league 
remained  to  a  certain  degree  ineffectual :  it  was  not  in  the 
power  of  the  British  minister  to  direct  the  energies  of  the 
allies  at  his  discretion.  It  was  ineffectual  with  respect  to  a 
leading  power,  Russia.  Although  Catharine  II.,  as  early  as 
March  25,  1793,  surpassed  all  the  others  in  her  eagerness 
to  conclude  an  alliance  with  England  ;  although  she  declared 
herself  in  a  state  of  war  with  France  ;  although  her  voice 
predominated  above  all,  she  still,  in  spite  of  all  this,  did  least 
of  any.  Her  views  were  directed  to  other  objects ;  first,  to 
the  renewal  of  the  advantageous  commercial  treaty  with 
England  of  the  year  1766  ;  secondly,  and  above  all,  to  the 
carrying  into  execution  her  new  and  unjust  design  of  a 
partition  of  the  too  unhappy  Poland,  which  was  effected 
in  this  very  summer.  Thus  the  certainty  of  not  having 
Russia  for  an  antagonist  was  the  only  advantage  which 
England  derived  from  this  connexion.  Among  the  other 
continental  powers,  Austria  and  Prussia  were  naturally  those 
with  which  the  first  and  strongest  connexions  were  formed ; 
after  these,  came  Spain,  Sardinia,  Portugal,  and  some  smaller 
states.  Most  of  these  states  were  in  the  situation  which  we 
have  already  alluded  to,  their  finances  were  greatly  dispro- 
portioned  to  their  military  force.  The  natural  consequence 
was  that  they  sought  assistance,  where  alone  they  could  find 
it,  in  Great  Britain.  Thus  not  only  was  the  subsidy- system 
of  earlier  times  renewed,  but  carried  to  a  much  greater  ex- 
tent than  it  had  been  before.  The  war  was  for  the  most 
part  carried  on  at  the  expense  of  England.  During  the 
eight  years  which  elapsed  between  1793  and  Pitt's  retire- 
ment from  the  ministry,  loans  to  the  amount  of  twenty-three 
millions  sterling  had  been  on  the  average  yearly  advanced 
by  the  minister.  The  British  ministry  was  certainly,  on  this 
account,  allowed  to  exercise  a  great  influence  in  the  conduct 
of  the  war;    yet  never  so  decisive  a  one  as  to  have  the 


direction  of  it  entirely  in  their  own  hands.  The  plan  of 
every  campaign  had  to  be  jointly  concerted  ;  the  continental 
powers  moreover  had  each  naturally  their  several  interests 
to  be  regarded.  A  mere  minister  of  state  is  not  capable,  as 
such,  of  being  unconditionally  the  soul  of  a  large  confederacy. 
It  is  only  when  the  statesman  and  general  are  combined,  as 
in  Marlborough  and  William  III.,  that  this  can  occur.  The 
wish  of  the  minister  was  to  arm,  if  possible,  all  Europe 
against  France.  But  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  accomplish 
this  on  a  systematic  plan,  much  less  to  give  a  permanent 
and  systematic  direction  to  the  confederacy. 

We  must  bear  this  in  mind  while  considering  the  cam- 
paigns of  1793  and  1794.  The  first  was  successful.  In 
consequence  of  the  battle  of  Neerwinden,  the  French  armies 
were  compelled  to  evacuate  Belgium.  This  gave  England 
an  opportunity  of  taking  an  active  part  in  the  war  on  the 
continent.  An  English-Hanoverian  army  united  itself  with 
the  Austrian  in  the  Netherlands,  and  these  provinces  be- 
came again  what  they  had  often  been  before,  the  bridge  be- 
tween two  allied  powers.  Even  the  republic  of  the  United 
Netherlands,  now  covered  by  the  allied  armies,  appeared  as 
a  participator  in  the  common  field  of  battle.  But  the  pos- 
ture of  affairs  underwent  a  change  in  the  following  year. 
The  system  of  terrorism  established  in  France,  which  left 
security  only  in  the  armies,  drove  every  one  to  arms  capable 
of  bearing  them.  Her  preponderating  power,  and  the  new 
system  of  warfare  which  spared  no  men,  decided  the  ques- 
tion :  in  the  autumn  of  1794,  Belgium  was  again  in  the 
hands  of  the  French.  More  severe  reverses  were  soon  to 
follow.  An  intense  frost  covered  the  rivers,  the  natural 
bulwarks  of  Holland,  with  a  sheet  of  ice.  The  defence  of 
the  republic  was  impossible.  The  house  of  Orange  fled  to 
England  ;  and  the  patriot  party  in  expectation  of  a  golden 
futurity  received  their  new  friends  with  open  arms.^ 

This  conquest  of  the  republic  had  a  double  effect  on  the 
continental  policy  of  England.  In  the  first  place  it  put  an 
end  to  the  direct  participation  of  England  in  the  war  on  the 
continent,  inasmuch  as  she  had  now  no  field  of  action  on 
which  her  armies  could  enter.  Henceforward  therefore  she 
was  obliged  to  confine  her  participation  in  the  continental 

'  In  January,  1795. 


470 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


471 


war  to  the  advice  and  support  which  she  gave  her  confeder- 
ates. A  second  consequence  was  the  commencement  of  a 
dissolution  of  the  league,  since  one  of  its  members  had  not 
only  seceded  from  it,  but  had  even  gone  over  to  the  enemy. 
But  this  first  separation  was  only  the  precursor  of  one  still 
greater,  to  which,  in  some  measure,  it  contributed.  By  the 
summer  of  1795,  England  had  lost  two  of  her  principal 
allies,  Prussia  and  Spain. 

The  secession  of  Prussia  must  no  doubt  be  chiefly  attri- 
buted to  financial  embarrassments,  which  the  subsidies  of 
England  could  not  relieve,  as  the  main  cause  lay  in  the  pro- 
digality of  its  financial  administration.  But  it  is  no  less 
certain  that  false  political  principles  had  also  a  material  in- 
fluence upon  her.  An  idea  had  existed  from  the  early  part 
of  the  reign  of  Frederic  II.,  that  Prussia  and  France  were 
natural  allies,  an  idea  which  France  upon  every  opportunity 
endeavoured  to  revive.  This  idea,  however,  was  manifestly 
grounded  on  the  earlier  relations  in  which  France  and  Aus- 
tria at  one  time,  and  Prussia  and  Austria  at  another,  re- 
spectively stood  towards  each  other.  So  long  as  the  rivalry 
lasted  between  France  and  Austria,  Prussia  was  for  France 
the  most  advantageous  ally ;  and  after  Prussia,  by  the  con- 
quest of  Silesia,  had  entered  the  field  as  the  antagonist  of 
Austria,  France  was  certainly  so  for  Prussia.  How  Frederic 
II.  availed  himself  of  this  has  been  shown  above.  This  con- 
nexion rested  solely  on  political  relations,  which  were  in 
their  very  nature  mutable,  and  which  had  actually  changed, 
since  Austria  and  Prussia  had  become  friends,  and  even 
allies ;  from  the  time  that  Austria  had  ceased  to  be  annoyed 
at  the  loss  of  Silesia,  Prussia  could  no  longer  be  called  the 
natural  friend  of  France.  But  it  is  a  phenomenon  of  fre- 
quent occurrence  in  politics,  that  political  feelings  are  fre- 
quently called  into  play,  even  after  the  circumstances  which 
gave  them  birth  have  ceased.  Again,  by  the  conquest  of 
Holland,  the  position  of  Prussia  in  respect  to  the  war  was 
geographically  changed.  Her  western  provinces,  protected 
by  few  fortresses,  lay  open  to  every  assault.  But  that  which 
operated  most  powerfully  was,  the  brilliant  prospects  which 
France  displayed  before  her,  of  future  aggrandizement,  in 
the  shape  of  indemnifications ;  as  the  limited  possessions  of 
Prussia  on  this  side  the  Rhine  remained,  from  the  peace  of 


Basle  till  the  conclusion  of  the  general  peace,  in  the  hands 
of  France.  Thus  England  lost  one  of  her  principal  aUies 
on  the  continent,  though  not  by  any  fault  of  her  own ;  for 
Pitt  still  continued  to  advance  subsidies,  even  when  a  zeal- 
ous co-operation  in  the  war  could  no  longer  be  expected. 
Prussia  now  adopted  a  system  of  neutrality ;  to  which  Han- 
over and  the  other  provinces  of  Northern  Germany  acceded. 

In  the  course  of  the  summer,  Spain  also  withdrew  from 
the  league ;  the  peace  which  she  concluded  at  Basle  placing 
her  in  the  condition  of  a  neutral  state.  Her  participa- 
tion in  the  war  had  been  founded  less  on  political  than  on 
family  motives.  The  Bourbons  who  were  seated  on  the 
Spanish  throne,  regarded  the  ignominious  fate  of  their  house 
as  an  insult  offered  to  themselves.  But  their  animosity  had 
gradually  subsided,  or  they  thought  they  had  been  sufficiently 
avenged ;  greater  facilities  too  were  here  offered  for  peace, 
inasmuch  as,  at  least  in  Europe,  no,  claim  had  been  made  to 
conquest  on  either  side.  The  cession  of  her  share  of  St. 
Domingo  to  France  was,  properly,  only  the  fulfilment  of  an 
ancient  treaty,  in  which  Spain  had  engaged  to  resign  this 
possession  in  return  for  another  held  by  France— Louisiana. 

Thus  was  the  first  great  confederacy,  or  as  it  was  then 
usually  expressed,  the  first  coalition  against  France  dissolved. 
Its  dissolution  cannot  be  considered  otherwise  than  calamit- 
ous, because  the  object  of  the  war  had  not  been  as  yet 
attained.  The  articles  of  the  peace  of  Basle  were  even  con- 
cluded with  the  National  Convention,  which,  in  spite  of  all 
its  protestations,  could  not  be  supposed  to  have  renounced 
its  revolutionary  principles.  Thus,  too,  was  exhibited  the 
first  example,  that  England  was  by  no  means  capable  of 
holding  together  the  league  which  she  had  formed.  Still, 
after  all,  the  league  was  not  altogether  broken  asunder; 
Austria,  the  most  powerful  ally  of  England  on  the  continent, 
still  remained,  and  by  her  successful  operations  on  the  Rhine, 
reanimated  her  courage.  Besides  Austria  she  had  also  re- 
maining South  Germany,  Bavaria  and  its  other  states.  In 
Italy  she  had  also  remaining  Sardinia,  which  from  the  for- 
tresses of  Piedmont  was  the  key  of  that  country.  She  had 
also  Naples,  valuable  for  her  sea-ports.  In  the  west  of  Eu- 
rope, she  had  still  left  Portugal,  whose  political  relations 
were  determined  by  her  commercial  connexions.    So  long. 


472 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


473 


therefore,  as  the  war  lasted,  it  might  naturally  be  expected 
she  would  earnestly  exert  herself  to  draw  more  closely  toge- 
ther the  ties  which  connected  her  with  the  other  allies.  As 
early  as  the  18th  Feb.  of  this  year,  1795,  a  new  defensive 
alliance  was  concluded  with  Catharine  II.,  with  reciprocal 
guarantees  of  possessions  held  by  either  party,  which,  like 
the  first,  was  unproductive'  of  any  material  consequences  • 
on  the  20th  May,  a  contract  with  Austria :  these  two  were 
the  foundations  of  the  triple  alliance,  concluded  on  the  28th 
September ;  the  conditions  of  which  have  not  been  made 
known  to  the  public.  A  new  loan  was  granted  to  Austria 
in  the  same  year. 

The  renewal  of  the  connexion  with  Russia  happened  in 
the  same  year  in  which  Catharine  consummated  her  designs 
against  Poland,  by  a  third  and  final  partition.     England 
abstained  from  any  active  interference  in  these  proceedings. 
Pitt,  in  his  negotiations  respecting  the  treaty  of  Russia  with 
Turkey,  had  experienced  how  hazardous  it  was  to  interfere 
with  the  designs  of  Catharine.  Whether  the  British  cabinet 
vfc^ould  have  manifested  this  passive  spirit  in  more  tranquil 
times,  may  admit  of  doubt ;  that  resistance,  under  the  exist- 
ing circumstances,  would  have  disturbed  the  good  under- 
standing with  her  allies,  and  perhaps,  if  it  had  been  energe- 
tic, would  have  led  to  a  war  with  Russia,  is  as  evident,  as  it 
is  improbable  that  any  resistance  could  have  prevented  the 
dismemberment.  Nevertheless,  the  opposition  in  parliament 
did  not  neglect  to  avail  themselves  of  this  ground  for  assailing 
the  minister.  He  answered  them  briefly  in  his  speech  of  May 
10,   1796,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Fox.^     "  Are  ministers  to  be 
blamed,"  said  he,  ''  for  not  doing  what  it  would  be  hazard- 
ous in  them  to  attempt  ?  and  would  it  not  be  hazardous  to 
propose  a  mediation  where  both  parties  were  not  ready  to 
agree  ?    To  have  erected  ourselves  into  arbiters,  could  only 
expose  us  to  difficulties  and  disputes,  if  we  were  determined, 
as  we  ought  to  be,  to  enforce  that  mediation  on  the  parties 
who  refused  to  admit  it.     And  what  is  the  great  use  which 
the  honourable  gentleman  seems  to  be  so  eager  to  derive 

;  Speeches  vol  ii.  p.  169.  It  is  a  part  of  the  ordinary  tactics  of  the  oppo- 
sition to  embarrass  ministers  by  reproaches  for  having  suffered  this  or  that 
to  happen  in  Europe.  The  most  recent  events  of  history  afford  evidence  of 
this.  The  reproaches  would  have  been  without  doubt  much  more  violent  in 
tne  opposite  case. 


from  that  peace,  if  so  procured  ?  Is  it  fit  that  we  should  go 
to  war  in  order  to  prevent  the  partition  of  Poland  ?  In  gene- 
ral policy  I  am  ready  to  confess  that  this  partition  is  unjust ; 
but  it  does  not  go,  as  is  said,  to  overturn  the  balance  of 
power  in  Europe,  for  which  the  right  honourable  gentleman, 
as  it  suits  his  argument,  expresses  greater  or  less  solicitude  ; 
for  that  country  being  nearly  divided  equally  between  three 
great  powers,  it  can  little  contribute  to  the  undue  aggrand- 
izement of  either." 

It  was  not  compatible  with  the  plan  of  the  minister  at 
this  time  to  take  up  this  subject  on  the  different  and  higher 
grounds,  which  easily  and  spontaneously  suggest  them- 
selves. 

The  whole  energies  of  England  were  thus  left  to  be  di- 
rected against  France,  who  in  this  same  year  obtained  a 
great  accession  of  power  by  drawing  Spain  from  her  neutral 
position  to  become  her  active  ally.  This  she  effected  by  the 
alliance-compact  of  August  10,  1796,  by  which  the  weaker 
state  completely  identified  her  fortunes  with  the  more  pow- 
erfiil,  and  which  necessarily  paved  the  way  for  its  subsequent 
fate.  This  connexion  became  immediately  of  importance  to 
France,  inasmuch  as  it  drew  into  her  interest  a  naval  power 
whose  fleet  she  might  expect  in  some  measure  would  repair 
the  loss  of  her  own.  Experience  has  shown  how  vain  this 
hope  was.  The  war  with  Spain  necessarily  became  a  mari- 
time one ;  and,  as  formerly  happened  on  the  invasion  of  the 
United  Netherlands,  materially  contributed  to  procure  for 
England  that  sovereign  command  of  the  sea,  which  became 
afterwards  the  subject  of  so  many  complaints  and  reproaches. 
A  war  with  Spain  was  besides  generally  very  popular  in 
England,  and  particularly  wished  for  by  the  British  navy, 
since  it  promised  a  rich  booty  to  privateers  as  well  as  to 
ships  of  the  line. 

As  long  therefore  as  Russia  remained  inactive,  Austria 
continued  to  be  the  principal  ally  of  England,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  principal  foe  which  France  had  to  encounter 
on  the  continent.  If  Austria  were  conquered  or  forced  to 
make  peace,  the  weaker  allies  must  follow  of  course.  The 
great  object  of  the  French  government,  which  had  been  for 
a  short  time  in  the  hands  of  the  Directory,^  was  to  accom- 

'  In  October,  1 795,  after  the  completion  of  the  new  constitution  and  the 


474 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


plish  this  object.  Three  armies  were  to  make  an  attempt 
on  three  different  points  to  force  a  way  into  the  heart  of  this 
monarchy  in  the  summer  of  1796,  in  order,  if  possible,  to 
dictate  peace  in  the  capital  itself  One  proceeding  from  the 
Lower  Rhine  under  General  Jourdan,  was  to  penetrate 
through  Franconia;  a  second  under  General  Moreau, 
through  Swabia  and  Bavaria  ;  while  another  under  the  new 
general-in-chief,  Buonaparte,  drove  back  the  Austrian  force 
in  Lombardy.  The  unsuccessful  issue  of  this  plan  is  well 
known.  Austria  found  in  her  own  imperial  house  (a  dis- 
covery of  inestimable  importance  for  her  cause)  the  general 
and  hero  who  held  her  enemies  at  bay.  Jourdan,  defeated 
at  Amberg  and  Wiirsburg,  hastened  back  across  the  Rhine 
with  the  relics  of  his  army ;  Moreau  was  also  obliged  to  make 
a  retreat.  These  victories,  however,  had  no  effect  on  Italy. 
There  the  commander-in-chief,  relying  solely  upon  himself, 
pursued  his  own  course  undisturbed.  While  those  events 
were  taking  place  in  Germany,  he  completely  established 
the  influence  of  France  in  Italy  ;  and  this  country,  which 
had  been  hitherto  only  a  subordinate  seat  of  the  war,  was 
made  by  him  the  theatre  of  its  great  operations.  Here 
Austria,  and  with  her,  England,  had  a  train  of  allies,  among 
whom  Sardinia  was  in  every  respect  pre-eminent.  Her 
territories  are,  by  their  position  and  their  fortresses,  the  key 
of  Italy.  The  first  object,  therefore,  of  the  new  generalis- 
simo was  to  dissever  this  connexion,  and  to  force  Sardinia 
into  a  separate  treaty.  A  few  weeks  sufficed  for  the  execu- 
tion of  this  project.  By  the  17th  May,  1796,  Victor  Amadeus 
saw  himself  compelled  to  sign  a  peace,  by  which  he  not  only 
renounced  Savoy  and  Nice,  but  even  received  French  gar- 
risons into  his  principal  fortresses.  Thus  England  lost  one 
of  her  allies,  who  had  formed  for  the  last  hundred  years  an 
important  link  in  the  chain  of  her  continental  relations,  and 
Austria  a  friend  who  had  never  been  of  greater  importance 
to  her  than  at  the  present  crisis.  They  were  now  both  obliged 
to  depend  on  their  own  resources,  for  no  dependence  could 
any  longer  be  placed  on  the  other  states  of  Italy,  which  were 
well  satisfied  if  they  could  obtain  by  negotiation  or  purchase 
an  armistice  or  a  peace.    Austria  might  now  expect  to  be 

dissolution  of  the  National  Convention,  the  Directory,  consisting  of  five 
members,  was  established. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


475 


attacked  in  a  new  quarter,  and  to  see,  in  the  event  of  her 
main  fortress,  Mantua,  falling,  the  French  armies  in  her 
southern  provinces,  that  being  the  only  impediment  to  the 
advance  of  the  enemy.  It  was  invested  in  July,  and  no 
wonder  she  strained  every  nerve  to  save  it.  Three  armies 
were  raised,  vanquished,  again  raised,  and  after  all  to  no 
purpose  !  Mantua,  on  the  2nd  of  Feb.  of  the  ensuing  year, 
opened  her  gates  to  the  conqueror ;  the  rest  of  Italy  had 
already  obtained  peace  either  by  submission  or  negotiation, 
and  an  entrance  was  opened  into  Carinthia  and  Carniola,  as 
well  as  into  the  south  of  the  Tyrol ;  it  seemed  indeed  ques- 
tionable whether  the  progress  of  the  warrior,  who  had  pene- 
trated into  the  heart  of  the  state,  could  be  arrested.  Napo- 
leon himself  was  not  insensible  to  the  hazard  of  his  situation ; 
but  the  new  system  of  politics  afforded  him  a  resource,  by 
making  an  amicable  arrangement  at  the  expense  of  a  neu- 
tral state.  The  preliminaries  at  Leoben  on  the  18th  April, 
which  were  afterwards  transformed  with  some  important 
alterations  into  a  definitive  treaty  on  the  17th  October,  at 
Campo  Formio,  restored  peace  to  the  continent — the  re- 
public of  Venice  being  made  the  sacrifice. 

We  shall  only  consider  this  peace  in  relation  to  England. 
There  was  certainly  nothing  concluded  in  it  which  imme- 
diately affected  this  country,  but  as  the  English  coalition 
now  ceased  of  itself,  the  renewal  of  it  was  evidently  rendered 
more  diflftcult  in  future,  as  Austria,  by  this  peace,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  indemnification  which  she  obtained,  in  a 
large  share  in  the  Venetian  territory,  resigned  her  portion 
of  the  Netherlands  in  favour  of  France ;  the  great  import- 
ance of  which,  in  the  mutual  relation  of  both  powers,  has 
been  clearly  demonstrated  above.  The  occupation  of  the 
Graeco-Venetian islands,  which  those  treaties  ceded  to  France, 
was  another,  by  no  means  unimportant,  consequence  of  that 
peace  to  England,  since  they  were  likely  to  affect  her  rela- 
tions in  the  Mediterranean  and  with  the  Porte. 

Thus  the  great  confederation  against  France  was  com- 
pletely dissolved,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  1797,  England 
stood  alone,  unsupported  by  any  allies  on  the  contment 
(with  the  exception  perhaps  of  Portugal')  against  France 
and  her  allies.     It  now  became  a  great  and  important  ques- 

'  With  Portugal  also  France  had  concluded  a  peace  on  the  20th  of  August; 


476 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


477 


tion,  whether  she  should  continue  the  war  or  conclude  a 
peace?  The  opposition  lost  no  opportunity  of  inveighing 
against  the  ministers  on  account  of  the  continuance  of  the 
war. — "  That  it  was  a  war  without  an  object.  That  they 
combated  principles  which  ought  not  to  be  combated  with 
arms.  That  they  were  willing  to  make  no  peace  with  the 
republic  of  France ;  that  they  aimed  at  the  restoration  of 
the  monarchy,  or  even  of  the  ancient  regime,  which  could 
not  be  effected.  What  had  been  hitherto  achieved  by  the 
war  ?  France  was  now  much  more  powerful  than  before  the 
conflict,  and  there  was  no  hope  of  being  able  to  reduce  her 
to  her  ancient  boundaries."  Such  was  the  language  deli- 
vered on  every  opportunity  by  Fox,  by  Sheridan,  and  other 
leaders  of  the  opposition. 

That  the  British  cabinet  was  not  decidedly  indisposed  to 
peace,  its  proceedings  had  already  evinced.  In  October, 
1795,  a  new  government  had  been  established  in  France,' 
that  of  the  Directory,  It  must  be  allowed  that  nothing 
could  then  be  done  till  experience  had  determined  by  what 
spirit  this  new  body  was  animated — whether  the  revolution- 
ary principles  of  the  conventional  government,  which  had 
made  way  for  it,  had  descended  upon  it,  or  whether  neigh- 
bouring states  might  now  dwell  near  it  in  security  and  peace. 
But,  however  this  might  be,  it  was  still  a  government,  and  as 
such,  whatever  well-grounded  apprehensions  might  at  first  be 
entertained,  it  was  the  highest  and  only  recognised  authority 
with  which  the  British  ministers  could  treat.  However 
faint  might  be  their  hopes  respecting  the  final  result,  a  door 
of  communication  seemed  now  opened,  and  they  might,  at 
least,  ascertain  at  what  price  peace  could  be  purchased. 
England  had  already  made  two  attempts  at  negotiation,  and 
she  now  made  a  third  by  sending  over  Lord  Malmsbury  as 
ambassador.  His  first  attempt,  made  at  Paris,  (Sept.— 
Dec.  1796,)  failed;  what  hopes  could  be  entertained  from 
the  beginning  of  the  final  result,  where  the  parties,  instead 
of  proceeding  heartily  and  with  good  faith,  began  by  insist- 
ing upon  an  ultimatum  ?  It  was,  nevertheless,  renewed  at 
Lille,  (July— Sept.  1797,  during  the  negotiations  for  peace 
between  France  and  Austria,)  at  first  with  a  better  prospect 

which,  however,  after  the   suspension  of  negotiations  with  England,  had 
been  again  formally  retracted  on  the  26th  October. 


of  success,  as  a  party  of  the  Directory  anxiously  wished  for 
peace ;  but  this  party  being  overpowered  by  the  majority 
and  forcibly  driven  from  office,  it  again  fell  to  the  ground ; 
and,  just  as  the  negotiations  with  Austria  were  approaching 
a  pacific  termination,  the  British  ambassador  received  orders 
to  quit  France,  and  England  was  left  alone  to  struggle  with 
the  enemy. 

Now  again  the  reiterated  attacks  of  the  opposition,  the 
loud  demands  Why  he  still  continued  the  war  ?  When  he 
hoped  to  conclude  a  peace  ?  again  compelled  Pitt  to  explain 
his  views  of  the  subject.  He  spoke  them  boldly  and  dis- 
tinctly. However  desirable  the  restoration  of  the  monarchy 
in  France  might  be,  (no  one  at  this  time  ventured  even  to 
think  of  the  reinstatement  of  the  Bourbons,)  it  was  not  in- 
sisted upon  as  an  absolute  condition  ;  much  less  the  entire 
restoration  of  the  ancient  form  of  government.  Even  with 
France  as  a  republic  peace  might  possibly  be  concluded, 
provided  that  it  could  be  a  secure  peace.  But  since  the 
politics  of  the  Directory  clearly  showed  that  it  had  adopted 
the  revolutionary  principles  in  all  their  force,  Pitt  resolutely 
adhered  to  his  principle  :  better  no  peace  than  an  insecure 
one !  "  I  have  never  believed,"  said  he,^  "  that  we  could  not 
treat  with  France  as  a  republic.  Whatever  I  may,  in  the 
abstract,  think  of  the  kind  of  government  called  a  republic, 
whatever  may  be  its  fitness  to  the  nation  where  it  prevails, 
there  may  be  times  when  it  would  not  be  dangerous  to 
exist  in  its  vicinity.  But  while  the  spirit  of  France  remains 
what  at  present  it  is,  its  government  despotic,  vindictive, 
unjust,  with  a  temper  untamed,  a  character  unchanged,  if 
its  power  to  do  wrong  at  all  remains,  there  does  not  exist 
any  security  for  this  country  or  Europe.  In  my  view  of  se- 
curity, every  object  of  ambition  and  aggrandizement  is 
abandoned.  Our  simple  object  is  security,  just  security, 
with  a  little  mixture  of  indemnification.  These  are  the  le- 
gitimate objects  of  war  at  all  times ;  and  when  we  have 
attained  that  end,  we  are  in  a  condition  to  derive  from 
peace  its  beneficent  advantages ;  but  until  then,  our  duty 
and  our  interest  require  that  we  should  persevere  unap- 
palled  in  the  struggle  to  which  we  were  provoked.  We 
shall  not  be  satisfied  with  a  false  security.    War  with  all  its 

'  Speeches,  iii.  p.  85. 


I 


478 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


479 


evils  is  better  than  a  peace  in  which  there  is  nothing  to  be 
seen  but  usurpation  and  injustice,  dwelling  with  savage  de- 
light on  the  humble,  prostrate  condition  of  some  timid, 
suppliant  people.  We  are  not  in  arms  against  the  opinions 
of  the  closet,  nor  the  speculations  of  the  schools.  We  are  at 
war  with  armed  opinions ;  we  are  at  war  with  those  opinions 
which  the  sword  of  audacious,  unprincipled,  and  impious 
innovation  seeks  to  propagate  amidst  the  ruin  of  empires, 
the  demolition  of  the  altars  of  all  religion,  the  destruction 
of  every  venerable,  and  good,  and  liberal  institution,  under 
whatever  form  of  polity  they  have  been  raised ;  and  this,  in 
spite  of  the  dissenting  reason  of  men,  in  contempt  of  that 
lawful  authority  which,  in  the  settled  order,  superior  talents 
and  superior  virtues  attain,  crying  out  to  them  not  to  enter 
on  holy  ground,  nor  to  pollute  the  stream  of  eternal  justice. 
If  it  be  asked  whether  I  am  determined  to  continue  the  war 
till  the  republic  be  overthrown  ?  I  answer,  I  do  not  confine 
my  views  to  the  territorial  limits  of  France  ;  I  contemplate 
the  principles,  character,  and  conduct  of  France  ;  I  consider 
what  these  are ;  I  see  in  them  the  issues  of  distraction,  of  infa- 
my, and  ruin,  to  every  state  in  her  alliance ;  and  therefore  1 
say,  that  until  the  aspect  of  that  mighty  mass  of  iniquity  and 
folly  is  entirely  changed ;  until  the  character  of  the  govern- 
ment is  totally  reversed ;  until,  by  the  common  consent  of 
the  general  voice  of  all  men,  I  can  with  truth  tell  parlia- 
ment, France  is  no  longer  terrible  for  her  contempt  of  the 
rights  of  every  other  nation— she  no  longer  avows  schemes 
of  universal  empire— she  has  settled  into  a  state  whose 
government  can  maintain  those  relations  in  their  integrity, 
in  which  alone  civihzed  communities  are  to  find  their  secu- 
rity, and  from  which  they  are  to  derive  their  distinction  and 
their  glory  ;— until  in  the  situation  of  France  we  have  exhi- 
bited to  us  those  features  of  a  wise,  a  just,  and  a  liberal 
policy,  I  cannot  treat  with  her." 

The  Directory  itself  soon  realized  the  views  of  the  British 
minister.  The  scandalous  proceedings  at  the  congress  of 
Kastadt ;  the  contumacious  bearing  of  the  French  ambassa- 
dors ;  the  seizure  of  Ehrenbreitstein  in  the  midst  of  the 
peace ;  above  all,  the  surreptitious  attack  upon  Switzerland, 
and  the  treatment  she  received,  aflforded  stronger  evidence 
than  the  case  required.    Meanwhile  England  stood  alone  on 


the  field  of  battle ;  the  question  was,  how  and  where  she 
should  be  assailed  ?  The  earlier  attempts  on  the  West  Indies 
and  Ireland  had  failed  ; — the  Egyptian  expedition  followed. 

We  propose  to  consider  this  extraordinary  and  remarkable 
enterprise  only  in  one  aspect,  as  to  the  influence  which  it 
had  and  must  have  upon  the  British  continental  pohcy.  It 
soon  assumed  a  greater  and  more  comprehensive  form  than 
might  have  been  expected  from  the  nature  of  the  expedition. 

The  object  of  this  enterprise  being  the  colonization  of  the 
fertile  plains  of  Egypt,  the  result  which  France  expected 
from  it  was,  properly  speaking,  the  acquisition  of  an  important 
colonial  possession,  which  might  not  only  compensate  the 
loss  of  the  West  Indian  islands,  but  by  the  altered  direction 
which  it  gave  to  the  whole  colonial  system,  might  injure  the 
British  colonies  in  the  West  Indies ;  and  perhaps  even  oper- 
ate upon  the  relations  in  the  East  Indies.  How  far  these 
projects  were  feasible  or  not,  may  be  reserved  for  a  distinct 
inquiry.  It  is  enough  that  the  apprehensions  which  they  ex- 
cited took  such  deep  root  in  England,  that  the  principle  was 
firmly  embraced  not  to  lay  down  the  sword  until  that  plan 
was  frustrated, — until  Egypt  was  wrested  from  the  French. 

Certainly  this  war  appeared,  by  the  distance  of  its  scene 
from  Europe,  to  have  no  connexion  with  the  British  conti- 
nental policy ;  indeed  from  its  engaging  so  entirely  the  at- 
tention and  energies  of  Great  Britain  in  a  different  part  of 
the  world,  it  rather  seemed  to  produce  a  relaxation  in  the 
continental  relations.  The  contrary,  however,  was  the  re- 
sult. The  Egyptian  expedition  became  one  of  the  principal 
means  of  bringing  about  the  second  great  confederacy  or 
coalition  against  France,  which  was  directed  by  England — 
and  of  which  it  remained  the  centre  in  an  equal  if  not  in  a 
still  higher  degree  than  it  had  been  in  that  confederacy 
which  had  been  dissolved. 

The  expedition  to  Egypt  thus  became  so  pregnant  with 
consequences  and  so  momentous  in  relation  to  the  British 
continental  policy,  that  not  only  were  the  ancient  cords  for 
the  most  part  re-knit  together  again,  but  new  ones  were 
likewise  added.  Amongst  these  must  be  enumerated  as 
more  particularly  important,  the  connexion  with  the  Porte. 
The  storm  which  raged  in  the  west  of  Europe  had  not  yet 
reached  this  state.     Its  position,  its  relations,  and  its  often 


b 


480 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


481 


blissful  Ignorance,  had  allowed  it  to  remain  neutral.     It  had 
been  for  two  centuries  and  a  half  the  ally  of  France,  without 
however  taking  part  in  her  wars.     England  had  had  httle 
connexion  with  it.    She  had  wished  perhaps,  though  in  va  n 
o  take  an  interest  in  its  affairs  before  the  conclusion  of  the 
ast  peace ;  but  m  this  she  was  not  actuated  so  much  by  a 
ender  sohcitude  for  the  Porte,  as  by  jealousy  on  account  of 
the  growing   power  of  Russia.      But  now'  relations  had 
changed  ;-Egypt  belonged  to  the  Porte ;  which  now  also 
discovered  by  experience  that  no  public  law  afforded  Zl 
protection  against  the  political  code  of  the  revolution.     Its 
oldest  friend  despoiled  It,  without  any  provocation,  of  one  of 
Its  best  provinces ;  and  though  this  proceeding  might  be  in 
explicable  to  them  they  were  quite  sensible  fhatL  insdt 
had  been  offered  them,  which  a  semibarbarous  peoplelo 
all  others  usually  least  disposed  to  brook.     The  means  for 

fn7'"^/'''..^'''°  ^'^'^'  '^''''  ^°'^«  -««  raised  for  war 
Se  Rrlnl  ? k'  TT'^^'"''''  ''  '^•^"'d  "-^t  be  difficult  fo; 

an  ally      Both  expectations  proceeded  rapidly  to  their  ful- 
fi  ment.     As  early  as  the  12th  Sept.  the  PortJ  issued  a  de- 
claration of  war  against  France,  and  by  the  5th  of  January 
1799,  a  league  was  concluded,  by  which  was  stipulated  S- 

leiirS'^th '""  '"'r"  ™  ""'^''^  againstThe  French 
vessels  and  they  engaged  not  to  make  peace  except  with 

mutual  consent,  and  guaranteed  to  each  other  their  „ 
trom  that  of  the  other  powers  with  England.     The  Porte 

Sred'tfi  'Th'^  "'•^'^  '''''"''  "«  -'^^''^-«'  n-  even 
of  the  hilh.^;  •  .  ««nn.ex'on  was  for  England,  not  only 

and  the?r!lTP'''"'T'  '"  ''^^'^  ^«  ^''  immediate  object 
and  the  present  war,  but  it  opened  to  her  a  new  and  daz- 

Se  fnTe?  '' '\'  'TTT J V'^^  Mediterranean  and  the 
trade  in  the  Levant,  which  had  been  hitherto  in  the  hands 

would  ^fbe  r'  ""T'  '  '"^  V'  ''"^^  P--d  inio  hers  it 

Z  shown  hZ  T      """'''  "  ^^'^  ^'""^  ^''-    The  sequel 
nas  sliown  how  these  expectations  were  realized  •  it  wa^ 

rE^Tif  we''°'  1  'rh'  ''^  fr-*«  oSetxpeditr 

JeaoeThv  FirT;'l'''l?"'^"^^""*^?^«'  should  not  be 
reaped  by  France,  but  by  England.     The  importance  of 

this  new  continental  connexion  is  sufficiently  oZb^s 


But  the  expedition  to  Egypt  was  of  service  to  the  British 
continental  policy  in  another  respect.     At  the  time  it  was 
set  on  foot,  the  spirit  and  courage  of  the  continental  powers 
were  at  a  low  ebb.      The  haughty  tone  assumed  by  the 
French  plenipotentiaries  at  Rastadt  had  dispirited  and  hu- 
mihated,  as  well  as  exasperated  them.    A  new  war  was  con- 
sidered inevitable ;  but  all  seemed  afraid  to  strike  the  first 
blow.    Exactly  at  this  crisis,  and  in  this  disposition  of  affairs, 
the  glorious  victory  of  the  Nile  was  achieved  by  Nelson.* 
This  however  did  not  immediately  affect  the  relations  of  the 
continental  powers,  though  it  had  an  indirect  influence  upon 
them.     This  humihation  of  the  haughty  raised  the  courage 
of  the  oppressed  ;  their  confidence  in  England  was  revived  ; 
her  exhortations  and  offers  were  listened  to  with  more  at- 
tention, and  what  perhaps  is  almost  without  a  parallel  in 
history,  the  effects  of  this  victory  were  much  greater  in  a 
moral  than  in  a  military  point  of  view.     The  relations  of 
France  with  Austria  were  already  greatly  disturbed.    A  new 
war  was  felt  at  Vienna  to  be  inevitable.     That  countiy  was 
only  looking  about  for  allies ;  negotiations  with  Russia  had 
already  been  quietly  going  on  during  the  interval  of  repose ; 
it  could  not  therefore  be  difficult  for  England  to  find  an 
opening.     It  was  still  more  easy  at  Naples,  where  the  per- 
sonal influence  of  the  ambassador,  or  rather  of  his  consort. 
Lady  Hamilton,  determined  the  queen,  and  through  her  the 
court,  and  even  excited  them  to  a  precipitate  rupture,  the 
consequences  of  which  were  the  occupation  of  Naples  and 
the  flight  of  the  king  and  the  court  to  Sicily. 

But  a  new  connecting  link  in  the  chain  of  British  conti- 
nental policy  was  formed  in  Russia.  The  connexions  with 
Catharine,  as  well  as  their  inefficacy,  have  been  noticed 
above.  She  had  retired  from  the  stage,'  and  had  made  room 
for  her  son  and  successor  Paul.  This  period  is  not  only 
highly  interesting  as  respects  the  British  continental  policy, 
but  to  the  whole  state-system  of  Europe.  With  it  com- 
mences the  active  participation  of  Russia  in  the  affairs  of 
the  West,  which  Catharine  had  always  studiously  avoided. 
And  it  might  be  foreseen  that  this  could  not  easily  be  again 
withdrawn,  whatever  change  might  take  place  in  the  cha- 
racter and  policy  of  the  reigning  prince.     A  power  of  the 

»  August  1st,  1798.  '  Nov.  16th,  1796. 

2  I 


p 


482 


RISE  OF  tHE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


483 


first  order,  having  once  adopted  an  active  participation, 
cannot  easily  stand  aloof,  for  any  considerable  time,  even  if 
she  wished  it,  which  it  is  almost  absurd  to  suppose  she  could 
do.  The  Egyptian  expedition  however  had  an  essential  in- 
fluence in  bringing  about  the  co-operation  of  Russia.  The 
capture  of  Malta  by  the  French,  having  wrested  this  island 
from  its  ancient  possessors,  the  knights  of  the  order  of  St. 
John,  and  threatened  their  order  with  extermination,  imposed 
on  them  the  necessity  of  seeking  a  powerful  protector. 
This  they  hoped  to  find  in  the  emperor  Paul,  whom  they 
chose  for  their  grand  master,  and  thus  drew  over  to  their 
interests  one  of  the  most  powerful  princes  of  Europe,  who, 
flattered  by  the  compliment,  accepted  their  offer.  The  per- 
sonal character  of  this  prince,  who  always  prosecuted  his 
wishes  with  vehemence,  and  the  desire  he  now  showed  to 
draw  into  a  league  the  whole  of  Europe,  and  who  indeed 
concluded  alliances  with  Austria,  England,  (who  consented 
to  subsidies,)  Naples,  Portugal,  and  even  with  the  old  here- 
ditary enemy  of  Russia,  the  Porte,  removed  every  obstacle. 

These  were  the  elements  of  the  great  confederacy  against 
France.  If  we  measure  it  solely  by  the  extent  and  popula- 
tion of  the  allied  states,  it  was  more  powerful  than  the  first. 
But  the  neutrality  which  Prussia  maintained,  and  with  her 
Northern  Germany,  left  a  great  chasm  which  could  not  be 
filled  up.  It  was  not  merely  the  want  of  the  military  force 
of  Prussia  which  caused  this  chasm  to  be  sensibly  felt,  but 
rather  the  geographical  position  of  this  state.  The  half  of 
France,  the  whole  northern  half  of  it,  according  to  its  line 
of  frontier  at  that  time,  was  covered  by  this  neutrality ;  and 
when  after  the  successful  progress  of  the  allied  armies,  an 
attack  upon  the  southern  half  was  not  impossible,  it  was  ob- 
vious how  difficult  this  must  be  rendered  if  France  could 
concentrate  all  her  forces  here  for  resistance. 

England  thus  again  united  the  links  of  her  continental 
policy  by  this  second  confederacy,  as  far  as  circumstances 
permitted.  She  concluded  an  alliance  with  Austria,  Russia, 
Naples,  and  with  the  Porte.  Circumstances  did  not  admit 
of  its  being  extended  to  Prussia,  or  to  Sardinia ;  since,  im- 
mediately on  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  with  Naples,  the 
Directory  availed  itself  of  that  crisis  for  robbing  its  proper 
ally,  without  the  least  pretext,  of  all  its  possessions  on  the 


I 


fe 


continent,  and  for  banishing  it  to  Sardinia.  England  was, 
it  is  true,  by  her  subsidies,  in  a  certain  sense  the  centre  of 
this  second  confederacy ;  but  yet  in  a  less  degree  than  of 
the  first.  She  was  less  capable  of  keeping  it  together.  The 
Porte  received  no  subsidies.  It  might  be  foreseen  that  its 
object  went  no  further  than  the  recovery  of  Egypt.  Russia, 
though  she  received  subsidies,  was  yet  by  her  position  and 
power  virtually  independent.  But  the  greatest  apprehen- 
sions were  founded  upon  the  personal  character  of  its  sove- 
reign ;  whose  policy  was  rather  influenced  by  caprice  and 
momentary  impressions,  than  built  on  any  firm  principles. 
But  all  these  things  lay  beyond  the  control  of  the  British 
minister.  Whatever  expectations  he  might  have  formed  of 
this  confederacy,  he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  the  fact 
that  it  was  but  feebly  held  together.  The  first  result,  how- 
ever, seemed  almost  to  surpass  their  expectations.  They 
had  the  good  fortune  to  find  great  generals ;  in  Southern 
Germany  the  Archduke  Charles  was  victorious,  in  Italy  the 
redoubted  Suwarrow.  Still  further,  in  the  course  of  the 
summer  the  French  armies  were  driven  back  across  the 
Rhine  and  the  Alps ;  Switzerland  was  left  only  half  occu- 
pied by  their  troops. 

But  the  year  was  not  to  end  without  the  sky  which  had 
thus  brightened  up  becoming  again  overcast ;  and  the  germs 
of  dissolution  already  developed  themselves  in  the  confe- 
deracy. The  apprehensions  which  the  capricious  policy  of 
the  Russian  sovereign  necessarily  excited  were  too  soon  to 
be  realized.  What  it  was  which  disturbed  the  relations 
with  Austria,  whether  the  disasters  in  Switzerland,  or  the 
occupation  of  Piedmont,  without  its  being  immediately  re- 
stored to  its  legitimate  king,  has  not  been  cleared  up ;  those 
with  England  were  deranged  by  the  ill-combined  and  ill- 

o  o  V  _    __        -  1*1 

conducted  enterprise  against  the  north  of  Holland  ;  which 
afforded  the  strongest  proof  that  without  the  co-operation  of 
Prussia  no  effective  attack  upon  France  could  be  made  from 
the  north.  Paul  I.  withdrew  from  the  confederacy,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  there  were  reasons  to  apprehend  that 
he  would  go  over  to  the  other  side. 

The  great  alteration  of  affairs  in  consequence  of  the  over- 
throw of  the  Directorial  government  and  the  elevation  of 

'  Aug.  and  Sept.  1799. 
2  I  2 


484 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


General  Buonaparte,  after  his  return  from  Egypt,  to  the 
post  of  first  consul,  or  regent  of  the  French  state,  could  not 
immediately  exercise  any  considerable  influence  on  the  con- 
tinental relations  of  England.  The  peace  which  he  offered 
to  England  in  a  letter  to  the  king,  altogether  at  variance 
with  the  customary  forms  of  diplomacy,  clearly  could  not 
be  brought  about,  for  this  reason,  because  it  was  scarcely 
credible  that  the  proposal  made  in  this  manner  was  seriously 
meant.  The  relations  of  England  with  Russia  were  virtually 
dissolved  ;  those  with  the  Porte  had  only  reference  to 
Egypt ;  those  with  Austria  and  the  states  of  Southern 
Germany  were  all,  as  far  as  regards  the  continent  of  Europe, 
she  could  reckon  upon.  But  even  these  were  destined  to 
be  torn  from  her  by  the  campaign  of  1800.  The  battle  of 
Marengo  restored  the  ascendency  of  France  in  Italy ;  the 
advance  of  Moreau  through  Suabia  and  Bavaria,  and  last  of 
all  his  victory  at  Hohenlinden,  opened  a  passage  to  the 
Austrian  provinces.  Austria  saw  herself  driven  to  negotia- 
tions, which  brought  on  the  peace  at  Luneville,  and  the 
breaking  off"  of  her  connexions  with  England,  which,  with- 
out this,  would  have  naturally  followed,  was  made  a  pre- 
liminary condition  of  this  treaty.^ 

Thus  with  the  exception  of  the  Porte  and  Portugal,  this 
second  confederacy  against  France  was  also  dissolved ;  and 
England  for  the  second  time  stood  almost  alone:  uncon- 
quered  to  be  sure  as  formerly,  as  inaccessible  to  assault  as 
ever,  and  with  the  confident  expectation  that  the  liberation 
of  Egypt  would  sooner  or  later  be  effected,  of  which,  indeed, 
the  capture  of  Malta,  compelled  by  famine  to  surrender,^ 
seemed  to  afford  her  a  pledge.  But  the  implacable  hatred  and 
indefatigable  policy  of  her  adversary  found  means  to  set  new 
enemies  upon  her ;  and  to  raise  a  new  storm,  of  which  the 
altered  relations  with  Russia  formed  the  materials.  A  league 
of  the  northern  powers  against  England  was  now  effected. 

The  notion  of  the  armed  neutrality,  which  Catharine  had 
originated,  was  not  extinct.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  things 
that  so  long  as  peace  continued,  during  which  there  were 
no  enemies,  and  therefore  no  neutrals,  it  should  slumber, 

*  England  exempted  Austria  herself  from  her  engagements  Dec.  31,  1800; 
which,  according  to  the  last  subsidy  and  alliance-treaty,  June  20,  1800,  would 
have  continued  to  the  end  of  February,  1801.  '  Sept.  1801, 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


485 


because  it  admitted  of  no  practical  application.    But  it  was 
obvious  that  it  would  not  be  neglected  in  new  wars,  in 
which  circumstances  should  favour  a  revival  of  the  scheme. 
England  had  certainly  given  occasion  for  its  restoration : 
not  only  were  the  old  subjects  of  controversy  renewed,  they 
were  even  multiplied  and  augmented.  The  meaning  of  con- 
traband was  extended  to  a  degree  unheard  of  before ;  even 
corn  and  provisions  were  reckoned  as   such,  in  the  vain 
hope   that   France  might   be   reduced   to   submission  by 
famine.    One  of  the  favourite  ideas  of  Pitt  was  to  ruin  the 
commerce,  and  above  all,  the  maritime  commerce,  of  France, 
because  he  fancied  he  had  discovered  the  means  thereby  of 
forcing  her  to  a  peace.     The  allied  powers  readily  con- 
curred in  his  views ;  it  was  a  standing  article  in  the  leagues 
which  were  formed  to  close   their   harbours   against   the 
French  shipping.      The   only  alternative,   therefore,    that 
France  had  left,  was  to  carry  on  its  trade  in  the  ships  of  neu- 
tral nations ;  but  never  was  England  less  disposed  to  tolerate 
this  than  at  the  present  time.     The  pressure,  therefore,  ne- 
cessarily fell  on  those  neutrals  which  had  a  traffic  of  their 
own,  in  which  class  only  the  northern  powers  of  Europe 
could  be  reckoned.    No  sooner  was  the  principle  once  ad- 
mitted, that   an  enemy's  goods  in  neutral  ships   was   fair 
booty,  than  the  claim  to  search  neutral  ships  became  a 
direct  consequence  of  this  admission  ;  and  who  could  fail  to 
perceive  what  disputes  and  altercation  such  searches  must 
lead  to,  whether  the  property  of  an  enemy  should  be  disco- 
vered or  not.  , 
The  assertion,  that  the  neutrality  of  the  flag  protected 
the  cargo,  even  though  the  property  of  an  enemy,  cannot 
be  proved  from  the  law  of  nature,  but  rests  upon  conven- 
tional principles  of  international  law,  founded   either  on 
mere  custom  or  positive  compact.'    The  idea  of  neutrality, 
according  to  our  conception  of  it,  extends  only  to  the  notion 
that  every  neutral  ought  to  be  at  liberty  to  offer  for  sale,  to 
belligerent  parties  the  products  of  its  own  country,  (so  far  as 
they  are  not  acknowledged  to  be  contraband,)  as  its  own 

'  In  order  not  to  interrupt  the  thread  of  the  inquiry,  I  have  thought  it 
better  to  investigate  the  claims  of  the  armed  neutrality,  considered  in  this 
point  of  view,  in  an  appendix  to  the  present  treatise  ;  the  "[jore  so  becau^, 
with  the  majority  of  readers,  the  ideas  on  this  subject  can  hardly  be  sum- 
ciently  accurate. 


486 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


487 


property ;  as  well  again  as  to  fetch,  as  its  own  property,  the 
goods  which  he  has  bought  of  these  and  paid  for,  but  not  to 
offer  them  for  sale  to  others  as  the  property  of  the  people 
engaged  in  the  war.  As  far  as  practical  policy  is  concerned, 
it  is  most  important  to  observe,  that  the  whole  question  may 
be  of  greater  or  less  importance  according  to  the  different 
relations  and  the  position  of  the  belligerent  nations;   and 
that  it  is  therefore  scarcely  to  be  expected,  that  the  conven- 
tional policy  on  the  question  should  be  always  consistent 
and  universally  agreed  upon.   Let  us  consider,  for  example, 
the  case  of  a  people  whose  wealth  and  power  chiefly  depends 
upon  its  maritime  commerce,  and,  above  all,  upon  an  active 
trade  with  its  colonies ;  can  it  be  supposed  for  a  moment, 
that  its  opponent,  in  case  it  be  powerful  enough  to  hinder 
it,  will  quietly  suffer  that  commerce  now  to  be  carried  on 
in  foreign  ships  instead  of  in  its  own  ?  And,  above  all,  will 
it  quietly  suffer  this  trade  not  only  to  be  carried  on  to  the 
extent  which  was  customary  in  time  of  peace,  but  even  to  a 
still  greater,  from  the  ports  of  the  colonies,  which  were  for- 
merly closed  against  foreigners,  being  now  thrown  open  by 
the  colonists  for  the  conveyance  of  their  products ;  their  own 
ships   being  excluded  from  trafficking.^    Would  a   naval 
power  at  war  with  Spain,  allow  foreign  ships  to  convey  to 
her  stores  from  Peru  and  Mexico,  without  which  perhaps 
she  would  be  obliged  to  give  up  the  contest  ?  We  are  here 
speaking  only  of  the  general  principle  and  the  consequences 
which  flow  from  it ;  far  be  it  from  us  to  vindicate  the  abuse 
to  which  the  rejection  of  it  has  led.    Far  be  it  from  us  to 
justify  it,  if  more  than  the  goods  which  upon  search  have 
been  found  to  belong  to  the  enemy,  if  perhaps  even  the 
ship  itself  has  been  confiscated,  with  all  its  cargo. 

The  revival  of  the  project  of  an  armed  neutrality  was  a 
consequence  of  the  perfect  unanimity  into  which  the  regent 

*  On  the  British  side,  the  question  is  best  elucidated  by  Pitt  in  his  speech 
on  the  2nd  Feb.  1801.  Speeches,  iii.  p.  220,  sq.  First,  on  the  ground  of  in- 
ternational law,  because  the  admission  of  the  right  of  neutral  flags  in  specific 
treaties  is  only  an  exception  to  a  right  recognised  as  a  rule.  Secondly,  on  the 
ground  of  convenience,  because  the  greatness  and  preponderating  weight  of 
England  as  a  naval  power,  and  consequently  her  greatness  generally,  rests 
upon  the  maintenance  of  the  principle  hitherto  received ;  since  otherwise  her 
enemies  would  have  uncontrolled  supplies  of  naval  stores  from  the  Baltic. 
Thirdly,  on  the  ground  of  positive  compacts  which  are  opposed  to  it.  See 
below  in  the  Appendix. 


of  France  had  succeeded  in  drawing  the  then  sovereign  of 
the  Russian  empire.  The  revival  of  this  measure  might 
seem  the  more  surprising  since  it  was  a  measure  of  Catha- 
rine II.,  which  Paul  I.  was  otherwise  certainly  not  disposed 
to  revive.  It  was  now  followed  up  with  all  the  impetuosity 
which  marked  his  character :  not  only  Denmark  and  Sweden, 
but  Prussia  also  was  obliged  to  accede  to  it,  or  to  run  the 
risk  of  being  treated  as  an  enemy.  The  claims  were  the 
same  as  under  Catharine,  only  in  consequence  of  a  remark- 
able incident,  a  new  one  had  been  annexed.  A  Danish  con- 
voy, accompanied  by  a  frigate,^  was  compelled  to  undergo  a 
search  ;  whereas  according  to  the  maritime  laws  in  force  up 
to  that  time,  the  convoy  of  a  man  of  war  furnished  security, 
that  the  vessels  under  her  protection  had  no  contraband 

goods  on  board. 

By  the  institution  of  this  league  England  was  placed  m  a 
state  of  hostility  towards  this  half  of  Europe.     The  deter- 
mination of  the  question,  whether  the  claims  of  the  armed 
neutrality  are,  on  a  general  view,  compatible  with  the  law  of 
nations  or  not,  we  will  leave  to  theorists  ;  that  England,  un- 
der existing  circumstances,  could  not  suffer  the  commerce 
of  its  enemy  to  be  freely  carried  on  under  neutral  flags,  we 
believe  no  practical  statesman,  whose  judgment  is  unbiassed 
by  party  prejudice,  will  deny.     Indeed  we  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  asserting  that  an  international  maritime  law  will 
never  be  established  further  than  on  paper,  so  long  as  that 
principle  shall  be  maintained  in  its  full  extent ;  the  present 
vast  importance  of  maritime  commerce  to  many  of  the  states 
will  not  permit  more.     The  just  censure  to  which  England 
was  amenable  in  those  times  does  not  lie,  m  our  opinion,  in 
her  refusal  to  recognise  that  principle,  but  in  the  unjust  ex- 
tension which  she  gave  to  her  claims  and  to  her  proceedings 
respecting  prizes.     If  she  had  only  confined  her  claims  to 
the  seizure  of  the  enemy's  goods ;  if  she  had  exercised  strict 
justice  in  every  thing  else,  and  treated  neutrals  as  neutrals, 
the  whole  contest  might  perhaps  have  been  superseded. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  it  was  no  longer  possible  for  England 
to  avoid  the  conflict.  The  measure  which  Paul  1.  em- 
ployed in  seizing  upon  all  English  ships  in  his  ports,  was 
equivalent  to  an  act  of  hostility  ;  and  m  politics  as  well  as 

'  The  frigate  Freja;  she  was  taken  and  brought  to  England. 


I 


111  i^L  ■«■■.■« 


I 


488 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


489 


in  private  life  it  is  an  acknowledged  principle,  that  a  state 
cannot  submit  to  an  affront  without  degrading  itself.  A 
British  fleet  passed  through  the  Sound ;  the  attack  upon 
Copenhagen  followed ; '  and  perhaps  no  blood  would  have 
been  spilt  if  it  had  been  known  on  the  2nd  April  at  Copen- 
hagen what  had  transpired  on  the  24th  of  March  at 
Petersburg. 

The  succession  of  Alexander  to  the  Russian  throne  had 
the  happiest  effects  on  the  continental  relations  of  England 
The  northern  league  dissolved  of  itself  (there  had  indeed 
been  only  a  partial  acquiescence  in  its  formation)  immedi- 
ately the  new  emperor  offered  the  hand  of  friendship  to 
England.  It  fell  to  the  ground  without  leaving  behind  any 
permanent  traces  of  its  existence  ;  nothing  was  determined 
respecting  the  principles  of  international  maritime  law; 
even  the  claims  of  England  were,  to  a  certain  extent,  tacitly 
recognised.  She  had,  though  not  strictly  allies,  yet  at  least 
friends,  in  the  North.  The  armed  neutrality  now  survives 
only  in  history  ;  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  it  should  again 
exist  in  Europe ;  though  it  may  possibly  be  recalled  into 
being  by  America. 

The  British  policy  was  directed  to  other  objects.     The 
time  approached  when  England  was  to  retire  from  the  con- 
tiict,  which  she  had  now  carried  on  for  nine  years  without 
intermission.     The  deliverance  of  Egypt  had  removed  out 
ot  the  way  a  mam  obstacle,  and  facilitated  the  negotiations ; 
preliminaries  of  peace  were  signed  in  the  autumn  of  the 
same  year,^  and  its  final  ratification  at  Amiens  was  only  de- 
layed by  the  determinations  respecting  Malta  to  the  spring 
pi  the  following  year.^     Even  on  this  occasion  the  peace 
was  not  concluded  by  the  same  minister  who  had  conducted 
the  war.      William  Pitt  had  previously  made  way  for  his 
successor  Addington;  though  not  by  compulsion  as  formerly, 
but  voluntarily.     In  full  possession  of  power,  and  of  a  ma- 
jority  in  parliament,  he  resigned  his  post,  because  his  opinions 
on  Catholic  Emancipation,  which  was  to  crown  his  ereat  and 
newly  achieved  work,  the  union  of  Ireland  and  England 
into  one  kingdom,  did  not  harmonize  with  those  of  his  sove- 
reign.     And  if  George  III.  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  the 
resignation  of  his   long-tried  counsellor  and  friend,  rather 

•April  2,  1801.  ^  Oct.  1,1801.  '  March  25,  1802. 


than  wound  his  conscience,  the  minister  showed  no  less  ten- 
derness for  the  dictates  of  his,  by  quitting  office,  when  his 
measures  were  no  longer  approved :  ^  though  poor  and  in  debt, 
notwithstanding  the  treasures  of  the  world  had  passed  through 
his  hands,  he  preferred  retiring  from  the  glory  of  supreme 
power  into  private  life.^  The  peace  of  Amiens,  however, 
may  in  some  measure  be  considered  as  his  peace,  inasmuch 
as  it  was  not  concluded  without  his  approbation  and  advice. 
His  successor  was  not  his  opponent,  but  the  friend  of  his 
youth ;  the  ex-minister  did  not  take  his  seat,  as  was  usually 
the  case,  on  the  opposition  bench,  but  on  the  right-hand  side, 
on  which  for  so  long  a  series  of  years  he  had  directed  and 
determined  the  destinies  of  Great  Britain,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  of  Europe. 

By  virtue  of  the  peace  of  Amiens,  Great  Britain  ceded  all 
her  conquests  in  the  colonies,  together  with  Malta,  to  their 
former  possessors,  with  the  exception  only  of  Trinidad  and 
Ceylon,  which  Spain  and  the  Batavian  republic  were  obliged 
to  cede  to  her ;  very  dear  conquests  in  return  for  a  debt  of 
300  millions  sterling,  which  the  war  had  cost  !^  But  who 
will  take  so  narrow  a  view  of  this  peace  ?  We  have  already 
on  another  occasion  given  our  opinion  of  the  criterion  by 
which  the  value  of  this  peace  should  be  estimated ;  namely, 
how  far  the  object  for  which  the  war  had  been  commenced 
and  carried  on  was  attained  by  it.  This  was  not  merely  the 
conquest  of  a  few  islands ;  but  two  objects  of  a  much  higher 
character;  the  maintenance  of  the  constitution  and  inde- 
pendence of  Great  Britain,  and  the  freedom  and  independ- 
ence of  Europe  against  the  encroachments  of  France. 

'  That  this  was  the  real  cause,  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  doubt.  The  very- 
expressions  of  the  great  statesman  on  the  subject,  with  tHe  tenderest  forbear- 
ance to  his  sovereiffn,  may  be  seen  in  the  speech  of  May  13,  1805.  Speeches, 
iii.  420,  sq.  '  Feb.  9,  1801. 

"  That  portion  of  these  sums  which  went  abroad  consisted  partly  of  loans 
which  England  guaranteed— capital  as  well  as  interest,  and  which,  until  their 
reimbursement,  make  up  a  part  of  the  national  debt ;  partly  in  subsidies,  that 
is,  sums  granted  by  virtue  of  compact  for  certain  services,  which  cannot 
therefore  be  reclaimed.  Only  two  loans  were  advanced  during  the  two  ad- 
ministrations of  Pitt  to  Austria,  in  1795,  to  the  amount  of  £4,600,000;  and 
in  1797,  to  the  amount  of  £1,620,000.  The  loan  to  Portugal,  amounting  to 
£600,000,  was  first  made  in  1809.  Hamilton,  National  Debt,  p.  133.  The 
whole  amount  of  the  subsidies  and  loans,  which  flowed  to  the  continent  on 
account  of  the  government,  is  computed  at  £45,800,000.  Nehenius  on  Public 
Credit,  in  German,  sect.  13,  note.  I  know  not  from  what  data ;  and  I  ques- 
tion whether  the  amount  of  the  subsidies  admits  of  being  so  accurately  deter- 
mined, since  it  cannot  be  known  in  what  instalments  they  were  really  paid. 


490 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


491 


The  first  of  these  objects  was  accomplished ;  but  not  the 
other :  the  predominating  power  of  France  was  so  far  from 
being  broken,  that  it  was  greater  than  ever ;  considered  in 
this  point  of  view,  the  peace  of  Amiens  can  only  be  consi- 
dered as  a  disgraceful  one.  All  that  can  be  alleged  in  vin- 
dication of  it  will  be  found  in  the  speech  which  Pitt  delivered 
after  the  ratification  of  the  preliminaries;^  his  opinion  on 
this  point  is  the  more  impartial  because,  being  no  longer 
minister,  he  is  not  vindicating  his  own  measures. 

His  main  argument  is ;  "  One  object  we  must  give  up, 
which  is  no  longer  attainable ;  we  are  disappointed  in  our 
hopes  of  being  able  to  drive  France  within  her  ancient 
limits ;  but  we  have  fulfilled  our  obligations  towards  our  al- 
lies ;  the  glory  of  the  English  arms  has  not  been  tarnished ; 
and  Great  Britain  possesses  the  means  of  opposing  France 
if  she  should  further  extend  her  ambitious  views.  Further : 
the  re-establishment  of  the  French  monarchy  is  equally  im- 
possible, but  we  have  survived  the  violence  of  the  revolu- 
tionary fever,  we  have  seen  Jacobinism  overthrown ;  and  its 
new  government  is  only  a  state  of  transition  towards  a 
monarchy."* 

But,  with  all  that,  it  is  difficult  to  palliate  the  impolicy  of 
neglecting  to  make  some  definitive  arrangements  in  the 
treaty  respecting  the  relations  of  the  continent;  and  of  at 
once  stipulating  for  the  evacuation  of  the  Batavian  republic 
by  the  French.  England  remained  virtually  excluded,  in  a 
political  sense,  from  the  continent ;  she  could  no  longer  in- 
terfere in  its  affairs ;  she  could  only  look  on  in  silence,  while 
France  might  lay  down  regulations  at  her  pleasure,  aflfecting 
the  continent  from  the  Tagus  to  the  Vistula.  The  moment 
she  attempted  to  raise  her  voice,  she  was  met  with  the  con- 
temptuous answer,  "  The  peace  of  Amiens,   and  nothing 

'  On  Nov.  3,  ISOl. —Speeches,  iii.  p.  270,  sq. 

2  Speeches,  iii.  p.  270,  sq.  That  this,  and,  if  possible,  the  restoration  of  the 
old  monarchy,  or  at  least,  of  the  reigning  family,  had  always  been  the  object 
of  his  wishes,  the  minister  does  not  dissemble.  It  was  not  without  the  most 
painful  struggle  that  he  could  abandon  this  hope : 

Me  si  fata  meis  paterentur  ducere  vitam 
Auspiciis,  et  sponte  mea  componere  curas : 
Urbem  Trojanam  primum  dulcesque  meorura 
ReHquias  colerem ;   Priami  tecta  alta  manerent ; 
Et  recidiva  manu  posuissem  Pergama  victis ! 
he  exclaims  with  iEneas.     What  would  his  great  spirit  have  felt  if  fate  had 
permitted  him  to  look  for  the  space  of  ten  years  into  the  future ! 


but  the  peace  of  Amiens."   The  question  was,  whether  such 
a  state  of  things  could  last  ? 

The  question  soon  became  answered  ;  in  the  short  space  of 
a  year  the  war  again  broke  out ;  it  was  declared  by  England. 
The  first  consul,  occupied  with  the  consolidation  of  his  power, 
and  the  re-conquest  of  St.  Domingo,  could  hardly  wish  for 
it  at  this  moment !  and  although  some  of  his  proceedings 
might  with  justice  be  made  the  subject  of  complaint,  they 
could  hardly  be  considered  suflScient  to  furnish  ground  for 
a  new  war.  We  certainly  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  a  war 
might  also  have  been  wished  for  by  him,  while  he  was  pre- 
paring the  steps  on  which  he  mounted  to  the  great  object  of 
his  ambition — the  imperial  throne.  But,  notwithstanding 
this,  it  still  seems  certain  that  he  could  not  have  wished  it 
to  break  out  so  soon.  It  indeed  becomes  a  question,  whe- 
ther, according  to  the  particular  plans  of  the  British  minis- 
try, the  peace  was  intended  to  be  any  thing  more  than  an 
armistice,  which  they  only  wanted  for  the  purpose  of  collect- 
ing new  forces ;  and  this  question  we  could  scarcely  help 
answering  in  the  aflSrmative,  if  another  and  a  much  more 
natural  solution  did  not  present  itself.  It  was  not  till 
after  the  peace  that  the  English  discovered  they  had  com- 
mitted an  error — an  error  which  they  now  saw  with  all  its 
consequences.  When  the  surrender  of  the  conquered  colo- 
nies as  stipulated  for  was  made,  only  one  condition  remained 
unfulfilled,  the  surrender  of  the  rocky  island  of  Malta.  The 
reasons  why  the  evacuation  of  this  was  refused  will  scarcely 
be  regarded  by  an  impartial  posterity  as  any  thing  more  than 
so  many  subterfuges ;  and  the  true  ground  can  now  only  be 
sought  in  the  awakened  consciousness  that  more  had  been 
conceded  than  ought  to  have  been.  This  was  incontestably 
a  political  blunder  which  we  are  not  disposed  to  justify ;  al- 
though aware  that  the  renewal  of  the  war  was  the  only  pos- 
sible means  of  repairing  it ;  the  war,  however,  would  never- 
theless have  been  continued  if  this  had  never  happened. 

England  commenced  this  new  contest  without  a  single 
ally  on  the  continent ;  and  the  terror  of  the  overwhelming 
power  of  France  could  afford  her  but  little  hope  of  procur- 
ing any,  unless  perhaps  the  haughty  spirit  of  the  French 
ruler  should  produce  them.  The  occupation  of  Hanover,  a 
neutral  power,  proved  the  complete  nullity  of  the  German 


492 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


empire,  but  was  also  a  proof  how  much  the  Prussian  cabinet 
of  that  time  could  submit  to,  in  admitting  without  hesitation 
the  army  of  a  conquering  power  into  the  heart  of  its  states, 
in  order  to  maintain  its  precarious  neutrality. 

The  first  great  effect  of  this  war  on  the  continent,  was 
the  erection  of  the  French  imperial  throne.  The  formal 
restoration  of  an  hereditary  monarchy  in  France,  could  not, 
considered  in  itself,  be  repugnant  to  the  views  of  England  ; 
but  the  claims  which  were  involved  in  this  new  title,  were 
of  such  a  nature,  that  they  defeated  the  prospect  of  peace, 
and  must  have  inspired  England  with  hopes  of  soon  being 
able  again  to  find  allies  on  the  continent ;  and  who,  indeed, 
could  doubt  that  every  exertion  would  be  made  to  effect  this 
object,  when  Pitt,  for  the  second  time,  with  the  same  prin- 
ciples, the  same  powers  of  mind,  though  not  of  body,  was 
placed  at  the  head  of  affairs/  The  war  itself  bore  altoge- 
ther a  peculiar  character.  Here  were  two  hostile  powers 
determined  to  wreak  on  each  other  all  the  mischief  they 
could  ;  and  yet.  one  being  strong  at  sea,  the  other  by  land, 
they  could  scarcely  come  at  each  other.  In  France,  the 
popular  mind  had  been  so  accustomed,  during  the  preced- 
ing war,  to  the  loss  of  colonies,  which  had  scarcely  been 
restored,  that  the  operations  of  the  English  in  this  respect 
could  hardly  move  it.  No  field  of  battle  offered  itself  on  which 
the  British  troops  could  disembark.  Great  preparations, 
however,  were  made  for  effecting  a  descent  on  England.  A 
numerous  army  was  assembled  on  the  opposite  coast ;  a 
whole  fleet  of  armed  and  unarmed  transports  were  built  to 
carry  it  over.  But  that,  without  a  fleet  to  keep  open  the 
communication  with  France  as  well  as  to  cover  the  passage 
and  landing,  an  invasion  was  impracticable,  or,  if  indeed 
effected,  that  it  would  end  in  the  defeat  and  capture  of  the 
invading  army,  was  obvious  to  every  one,  as  was,  conse- 
quently, that  such  a  design  could  never  have  been  seriously 
planned  ;  still  there  were  not  wanting  political,  and  even 
military  writers,  who  believed  it !  But  on  the  other  side,  it 
was  not  less  certain  that  the  threatening  attitude  assumed 
could  not  last  for  ever,  nor  even  long ;  that  the  interest  of 
the  new  ruler  of  France  required  a  new  war ;  and  experi- 
ence has  now  shown,  that  the  descent  upon  England  was 

»  On  2Sth  May,  1804. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


493 


only  a  mask,  under  which  he  might  prepare  for  another 
object. 

Its  effect  upon  England,  however,  was  to  drive  the 
whole  nation  to  arms.  The  military  spirit  was  not  only 
every  where  aroused,  but  it  breathed  a  new  power;  a 
different  kind  of  enthusiasm  was  naturally  kindled  in  the 
breasts  of  troops  who  were  to  fight  for  their  country,  their 
families,  and  their  homes,  to  that  felt  by  men  enlisted  for 
foreign  war  and  conquest. 

The  labours  of  Pitt  were  not  in  vain.  He  succeeded  in 
the  summer  of  1805,  in  bringing  about  a  third  confederacy 
against  France.  The  transfer  of  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine 
to  that  country ;  the  distribution  of  all  the  ecclesiastical 
states,  on  the  German  side,  among  those  whom  she  wished 
to  favour  ;  the  powerful  movements  upon  Switzerland,  and 
above  all,  upon  Italy,  rendered  it  no  longer  problematical, 
that  with  this  predominating  power  of  France  and  the  use 
she  made  of  it,  an  independent  European  state-system  could 
not  possibly  exist.  To  the  aid  of  these  sound  political  con- 
siderations, there  came  about  this  time  an  event,  no  less 
powerfiil,  which  roused  the  moral  indignation  of  nearly  all 
Europe — the  arrest  and  murder  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien. 
This  was  not  only,  as  it  has  generally  been  admitted,  a 
crime,  but  unquestionably  a  great  political  error,  which 
cannot  find  an  apology  in  the  design  of  renewing  a  conti- 
nental war,  as  that  might  have  been  effected  without  it. 

From  this  moment  the  sullen  spirit  of  Prussia  began  to 
work,  and,  much  increased  by  the  contumelious  dismissal 
and  treatment  of  her  ambassador,  communicated  itself  to  the 
cabinets  of  Austria,  Prussia,  and,  above  all,  to  Sweden.  The 
more  keen  the  sense  of  justice  that  prevailed  in  the  disposi- 
tions of  those  princes,  the  more  deeply  must  they  have  felt 
the  wound  thus  given  it ;  and  however  undefined  the  plans 
of  these  sovereigns,  a  party  from  this  time  soon  became 
formed,  not  only  of  men,  but  even  among  women  of  the 
first  rank,  in  the  courts  of  Vienna  and  Berlin,  as  well  as  of 
Petersburg,  which  preferred  a  renewal  of  the  war  to  a  dis- 
honourable peace.  Thus  when  Pitt  re-entered  the  ministry 
he  found  the  national  feeling  and  cabinets  of  the  continent 
favourable  to  his  designs.  How  much  was  done  by  British 
ambassadors  to    win   over   completely,  posterity   perhaps 


494 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


will  discover,  when  their  official  reports  shall  at  some  future 
time  be  intrusted  to  a  second  Coxe/  England  thus  became, 
in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  the  centre  of  the  third  con- 
federacy against  the  domination  of  France,  as  Russia, 
Austria,  and  Sweden,  entered  into  a  treaty  of  alliance  with 
her,  upon  conditions  of  receiving  certain  subsidies ;  unfor- 
tunately, the  wavering  policy  of  Prussia  placed  the  same 
obstacles  in  the  way  as  had  occurred  before.  The  disastrous 
issue  of  the  campaign  of  1805,  which,  after  the  battle  of 
Austerlitz,  was  followed  by  the  peace  of  Presburg,^  rent 
asunder  the  alliance  with  Austria;  that  with  Russia  was 
prolonged  in  little  more  than  in  form ;  that  with  Sweden 
was  rather  more  trouble  than  profit ;  and  new  relations  with 
Prussia  soon  followed,  which  led  to  war,  or  at  least  to  a 
warlike  attitude. 

Pitt  was  destined  to  live  just  long  enough  to  see  his 
hopes  and  his  plans  frustrated.  Intelligence  of  all  these 
misfortunes,  for  which  the  recent  victory  at  Trafalgar  (21st 
October)  could  not  compensate,  reached  him  while  yet  on 
his  death-bed.^  However  deeply  this  may  have  distressed 
him,  he  had  still  two  grounds  of  consolation  left.  First— 
The  consciousness  that  his  life  had  been  devoted  to  a  good 
and  just  cause ;  and  next  to  that,  the  certainty  that  his  prin- 
ciples would  survive  in  the  school  of  statesmen  which  he 
himself  had  formed.*  But  dismal  as  were  the  prospects 
when  his  eye  closed  in  death,  they  became  still  darker  soon 
after  his  departure ;  and  it  became  of  the  greater  import- 
ance that  his  principles  died  not  with  him. 

A  most  striking  proof  of  this  was  afforded  by  the  adminis- 
tration which  succeeded,  and  which  wished  to  follow  a  dif- 
ferent line  of  policy.  This  was  a  coalition  ministry  ;  that  is 
to  say,  one  formed  of  men  of  opposite  parties  and  professing 
different  principles ;  a  ministry  which  can  hardly  ever  suc- 

'  On  the  internal  relations  of  the  court  of  Vienna,  at  that  time,  and  the 
English  ambassador,  Lord  Paget,  some  interesting  information  will  be  found 
in  tne  treatise,  Die  Franzosen  in  Wein,  1805,  in  Europeische  Annalen,  1809, 
St.  6,  the  authenticity  of  which,  however,  we  cannot  vouch  for,  as  we  are  un- 
acquainted with  the  sources  from  which  they  are  derived. 

*  December  26,  1805. 

'  His  death,  the  23rd  Januaiy,  1806,  happened  on  the  same  day  of  the 
month  as  that  on  which  he  had  taken  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons 
twenty-five  years  before. 

*  A  Portland,  Liverpool,  Sidmouth,  Cannings  Perceval,  Castlereagh, 
Vansittart,  etc. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


495 


ceed  for  any  length  of  time  in  England.  At  its  head  were 
placed  Lord  Grenville,  as  first  lord  of  the  treasury,  and  Mr. 
Fox,  as  secretary  of  state  for  foreign  affairs.^  By  this  ar- 
rangement the  foreign  policy  of  England  was  intrusted  to 
one,  who,  all  his  life,  had  been  the  distinguished  antagonist 
of  Pitt.  Even  since  the  death  of  both,  public  opinion  has 
been  divided  in  England  as  to  which  has  the  higher  claim 
to  praise ;  a  question  the  more  difficult  to  settle,  because 
party  spirit  almost  necessarily  exercises  an  influence  over  all 
who  seek  to  answer  it.  With  all  his  genius,  with  all  his 
brilliant  talents  as  a  speaker.  Fox,  nevertheless,  wanted  that 
calmness  of  mind  which  is  indispensable  to  the  great  man  of 
business  in  practical  life.  He  saw  through  the  medium  of 
his  passions,  and  spoke  under  their  influence ;  while  the 
steady  coolness  of  Pitt  is  displayed  no  less  in  the  details  of 
business  than  in  his  speeches,  which,  never  overcharged, 
seem  only  designed  to  convince.  Which  of  the  two  took 
the  most  correct  view  of  the  great  objects  which,  in  their 
time,  excited  so  much  interest,  is  perhaps  no  longer  a  matter 
of  doubt.  We  may  admire  Fox  as  a  speaker  and  as  an  his- 
torian ;  but  who  will  now  attempt  to  rank  him  beside  his 
great  rival  as  a  statesman  ?  Even  great  good  nature  in  him 
was  dangerous,  as  it  inclined  him  too  much  to  judge  of 
others  by  himself 

When  Fox  was  placed  at  the  helm  of  affairs,  the  conti- 
nental relations  of  England,  with  the  exception  of  those  of 
the  North,  were  dissolved ;  in  Germany  they  could  not  be 
easily  renewed,  as  the  southern  states  had  leagued  themselves 
with  France,  and  the  confederation  of  the  Rhine,  which  was 
afterwards  formed,  rendered  it  altogether  impossible.  With 
Spain  the  war  was  again  renewed  ;  with  Prussia  the  rela- 
tions were  doubtful.^  They  soon,  however,  became  de- 
cidedly hostile,  as  Prussia,  in  compliance  with  the  dictates 
of  France,  took  possession  of  Hanover.     Fox  rightly  judged 

'  In  February,  1806. 

'  After  the  capture  of  the  Spanish  galliots,  (4th  October,)  the  relations  of 
England  and  Spain  have  been  so  diligently  investigated  by  a  celebrated 
writer,  that  I  deem  it  only  necessary  to  refer  to  them  :—Fr.  Genz  authen- 
tische  Darstellung  der  Verhdltnisse  Zwischen  England  und  Spatiien,  1806.  I 
agree  with  the  author,  that  England  was  justified  in  treating  Spain  as  an 
enemy  at  any  time,  yet  not  without  a  previous  declaration  of  war.  The  more 
strenuously  England  contended  for  the  maintenance  of  international  law,  the 
more  important  it  became  that  she  should  observe  its  forms. 


496 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


497 


that  such  an  insult  to  his  sovereign  was  not  to  be  tolerated. 
The  declaration  of  war  which  ensued,  was  unanimously  ap- 
proved in  parliament,  in  the  address  of  thanks  voted  in  re- 
ply to  the  king's  speech.  A  terrible  blow  to  Prussian 
commerce. 

Fox  was  scarcely  settled  in  the  ministry,  before  he  showed 
his  desire  to  negotiate  a  peace ;  and  accordingly  he  availed 
himself  of  the  first  opportunity  of  communicating  his  senti- 
ments to  the  enemy.     A  plan  having  been  formed  for  the 
assassination  of  Napoleon,  Fox  sent  information  of  it  to  him, 
and  thus  had  the  opportunity  he  wished  for  of  entering  upon 
negotiations  with  that  potentate.     Their  many  interruptions 
and  slow  progress  during  the  whole  summer,  only  served  to 
evidence  the  weakness  of  the  declining  minister;  while,  by 
the  overthrow  of  the  German  empire,  the  establishment  of 
the  confederation  of  the  Rhine,  and  the  more  and  more  war- 
like attitudes  assumed  towards  Prussia,  Napoleon  clearly  be- 
trayed his  ulterior  designs.     Fox  continued  to  negotiate, 
and  suffered  himself  to  be  put  off  with  one  proposal  after 
another,  which,  from  their  very  absurdity,  ought  to  have 
convinced  the  most  short-sighted  politician  that  they  were 
only  meant  to  delude.     A  short  time  before  the  breaking 
out  of  the  war  with  Prussia,  he  expired.^     His  administra- 
tion had  merely  served  as  a  foil  for  that  of  Pitt.     The  war 
against  Prussia  and  Russia,  which  was  terminated  by  the 
peace  of  Tilsit,  (July,  1807,)  only  falls  within  the  sphere  of 
this  inquiry,  from  the  influence  which  it  had  upon  the  con- 
tinental relations  of  England  opening  negotiations  with  that 
potentate.     The  emperor  of  France  succeeded  in  drawing 
Russia  over  to  his  side ;  and  had  not  Gustavus  Adolphus, 
with  untimely  pertinacity,  which  soon  cost  him  Finland,  and 
even  his  throne,  adhered  to  his  engagements,  every  tie  by 
which  England  was  still  connected  with  the  continent,  would 
have  been  snapped  asunder ;  and  even  this  last  was  soon 
broken. 

Of  all  the  states  of  the  North,  Denmark  alone — a  power 
both  military  and  naval — had  been  able  to  maintain  its  neu- 
trality ,•  but  even  this  was  destroyed  by  England's  demand- 
ing the  surrender  of  her  fleet,  and  enforcing  this  demand  by 
the  bombardment  of  her  capital.^ 

•  On  16th  September,  1806.  ^  September  7,  1807. 


Whether  or  not  this  transaction  was  a  breach  of  the  law 
of  nations,  still  remains  undecided,  even  among  the  English 
themselves.     If  the  British  ministry  had,  ss  they  alleged— 
and  in  all  probability  such  must  have  been  the  case — positive 
intelligence,  that,  by  express  stipulations  in  the  late  treaty, 
Denmark  was  to  be  forced  into  the  war,  and  that  Copen- 
hagen was  to  become   the  rendezvous   of  the  naval   and 
military  forces  of  the  North,  could  it  be  an  infraction  of  the 
law  of  nations  to  anticipate  this  event,  especially  as  England 
only  required  the  surrender  of  the  Danish  fleet,  on  condition 
that  it  should  be  restored  at  the  end  of  the  war,  and  did  not 
proceed  to  enforce  its  surrender  till  this  had  been  refused  ? 
The  course  of  events  will  always  bring  on  cases  respecting 
which  nothing  has  been  determined  in  any  code  of  inter- 
national law.     Those  proofs,  however,  have  not  been  made 
public  ;  and  even  if  they  were,  who  could  blame  the  Danish 
government  for  refusing  to  comply  with  such  a  demand  ? 
Who  indeed,  could  blame  that  nation  for  regardmg  the  at- 
tack as  a  violation  of  the  law  of  nations  ?  Be  this,  however, 
as  it  may,  it  would  have  been  more  noble  for  England  to 
await  the  attack  on  the  open  sea,  the  theatre  of  her  glory, 
especially  as  there  could  be  no  possible  doubt  as  to  the  issue. 
Thus  the  celebrated  continental  system  of  Napoleon  might 
be  said  to  be  realized  against  England,  who  was  now  shut 
out  from  every  port  of  the  continent,  from  Petersburg  to 
Cadiz.     An  armed  neutrality  was  now  no  longer  the  ques- 
tion, for,  generally  speaking,  neutrality  was  no  longer  toler- 
ated but  the  great  commercial  war  was  set  on  toot  against 
England,  which  gave  rise  to  a  tissue  of  decrees,  every  where 
characterized  by  passion  and  hatred.     These,  in  the  end 
had  no  other  result  beyond  that  of  warning  politicians,  that 
if  they  listen  to  any  voice,  save  that  of  reason  and  reflection, 
they  must  expect  the  blow,  intended  for  others,  to  fall  at  la^t, 
with  increased  force,  upon  their  own  heads.      Napoleon  s 
continental  system,  which  was  to  exclude  the  English  from 
every  port,  had  eventually  the  eff^ect  of  re-openmg  them  all 

^'^  As'in  the  physical,  so  in  the  political  world,  no  unnatural 
condition  can  last  for  ever ;  and  if  Napoleon  had  not  hasten- 
ed  the  catastrophe  by  new  deeds  of  violence,  it  must,  m 
some  way  or  other,  however  tardily,  have  come  to  pass  at 

^    K 


I 


498 


RISE  OF  THE  CONTINENTAL 


last.  The  designs  upon  the  Spanish  peninsula  were  the 
first,  and  those  against  Russia  the  second  step  towards  it. 
In  the  former,  England  had,  if  not  an  ally,  at  least  a  friend, 
in  Portugal.  Though  it  was  impossible  to  save  this  state, 
yet  here,  nevertheless,  the  British  continental  policy  cele- 
brated its  first  triumph  by  its  success  in  persuading  the  court 
to  emigrate  to  Brazil,^  and  found  a  new  kingdom  on  that  side 
the  Atlantic.  A  greater  triumph,  however,  awaited  it.  The 
ill-treated  Spain  was  roused  by  her  injuries,  and  a  new  kind 
of  league  was  formed,  not  with  a  cabinet,  but  with  a  nation,^ 
which,  notwithstanding  the  frequent  vicissitudes  of  fortune, 
could  not  be  dissolved.  In  Spain,  the  first  abyss  opened 
itself,  which  swallowed  up  the  stores  and  the  armies  of  Na- 
poleon ;  a  second  still  more  terrific  he  himself  prepared  in 
Russia.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  recount  the  history  of 
those  great  events,  which  rendered  it  possible  for  armies  ad- 
vancing from  the  Tagus  and  the  Volga  to  combine  and 
co-operate  in  the  heart  of  France ;  which  hurled  the  despot 
from  the  tottering  but  imperial  throne,  and  brought  about 
that  which  Pitt  had  expressed  as  the  object  of  his  wishes, 
though  no  longer  of  his  hopes — the  restoration  of  the  ancient 
dynasty  to  the  newly-erected  regal  throne  of  France.  Let 
us  rather  be  permitted  to  conclude  this  treatise  with  some 
general  observations  on  the  co-operation  of  England  in  the 
re-establishment  of  the  European  state-system,  and  on  its 
present  relations  with  the  continent. 

After  the  inquiry  which  we  have  instituted,  no  one  will 
dispute  the  title  of  England  to  the  glory  of  having  taken  the 
greatest  and  most  effectual  part  in  the  liberation  of  Europe, 
and  the  restoration  of  an  independent  state-system  to  our 
part  of  the  globe.  Her  share,  however,  has  often  been  much 
exaggerated,  particularly  by  Englishmen.  England  certainly 
achieved  much ;  but  England  did  not,  and,  as  repeated  ex- 
perience has  shown,  could  not,  achieve  it  alone.  It  was  ut- 
terly impossible  for  her  to  do  so,  without  the  co-operation 
of  continental  allies,  such  as  Spain  and  Portugal,  Germany 
and  Russia. 

After  the  catastrophe  in  Russia,  which  took  place  with  • 
out  the  participation  of  England, — when  the  oppressed  be- 
gan to  burst  their  bands  asunder,— it  was  perfectly  natural 

•  November  30,  I8O7.  '  January  14,  1809. 


INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


499 


that  the  old  allies  of  England  should  again  rally  around  her; 
and  history  will  never  forget  the  almost  incredible  exertions 
which  she  made  from  the  years  1813  to  1815,^  which  plainly 
prove  that  she  did  not  think  the  liberation  of  Europe  could 
be  purchased  too  dearly. 

Even  Pitt,  had  he  survived  the  glorious  triumph  of  his 
principles,  could  hardly  have  done  more  !  Yet,  all  this  could 
only  succeed  by  a  uniting  of  the  various  powers ;  for  what 
could  gold,  however  indispensable,  do  alone ;  iron,  after  all, 
was  to  decide  the  contest. 

England  certainly  prides  herself,  with  justice,  on  being 
the  only  power  that  never  bowed  her  neck  during  the  whole 
course  of  that  tempestuous  period.  But  England  should 
not  forget  that  she  is  mainly  indebted  for  this  to  her  insular 
position.  During  that  political  storm,  which  periodically, 
as  it  were,  desolated  the  countries  of  the  continent,  she  alone 
could  assure  to  herself  that  internal  tranquillity,  without 
which  those  peaceful  arts,  from  which  alone  she  derives  re- 
sources for  her  great  exertions,  could  not  have  been  con- 
tinued with  such  unexampled  vigour  and  prosperity.  Be- 
sides this,  it  was  undoubtedly  of  peculiar  advantage  to  all 
Europe,  not  only  that  the  wooden  walls  of  England  rendered 
her  impregnable,  but  that  she  was  precisely  the  state,  above 
all  others,  fitted  by  her  constitution  to  keep  alive  those  poli- 
tical opinions,  the  decline  of  which  could  never  have  been 
more  injurious  and  lamentable  than  at  this  particular  period. 
By  this,  too,  was  prepared  the  amazing  influence  which 
England  has  had,  since  the  struggle  for  constitutional  go- 
vernments has  become  general  in  Europe.  Her  example 
was  held  forth,  not  in  order  that  her  constitution  should  be 
adopted  as  a  general  model,  (which  heaven  forfend,)  but  as 
one  from  which  proper  notions  might  be  formed  of  liberal 
institutions  of  this  kind ;  such  were  now  introduced  mto 
France,  the  Netherlands,  and  several  German  states. 

England  is  now  ranked  as  one  of  the  five  leadmg  powers 
who  determine  the  relations  of  the  European  state-system. 
It  has  connected  itself  with  them  without  any  surrender  on 
its  own  part ;  it  has  therefore  reserved  to  itself  the  power  ot 

'  The  affereo-ate  of  the  loans  advanced  in  the  three  years,  ainoun ted  to  no 
less  tLn  f  142!(>0a000  according  to  the  real,  and  £222,(W000  according  to 
the  nominal  vaXue.—Nebemus  uber  den  credit.     Anhang,  §  0. 

2  K  2 


500 


CONTINENTAL  INTERESTS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


stepping  forward  as  a  mediator  whenever  it  may  be  neces- 
sary. A  continental  policy  like  the  last,  founded  upon 
loans  and  subsidies,  can  hardly  ever  occur  again,  at  least 
to  the  same  extent ;  but  if  this,  as  we  think  we  have  shown 
it  to  be,  was,  on  the  whole,  beneficial  for  Europe,  are  we 
not  thereby  justified  in  hoping,  that  she  will  become  still 
more,  in  future,  the  mediating  power.  Thus,  then,  we 
think  we  may  conclude  this  treatise,  without  exposing  our- 
selves to  the  imputation  of  blind  partiality,  with  a  wish  for 
Britain,  which  is,  at  the  same  time,  the  best  we  can  form 
for  the  continent  and  for  our  native  country. — Esto  per- 

PETUA  ! 


APPENDIX. 

(p.  449.) 


An  Examination  of  the  Questions  respecting  the  claims  of  the  Armed 

Neutrality, 

The  claims  of  the  armed  neutrality  embrace  four  questions,  which  must 
be  kept  quite  distinct,  if  we  wish  to  examine  them  properly.  The  first 
is :  Whether  free  ships  make  free  cargoes  ?  The  second  is,  The  deter- 
mination of  what  are  called  contraband  or  forbidden  wares  ?  Thirdly, 
Whether  a  convoy  is  a  protection  from  search  ?  Fourthly,  When  are 
ports  to  be  considered  in  a  state  of  blockade  ?  We  shall  proceed  to  ex- 
amine each  separately. 

I.     Whether  Free  Ships  make  Free  Cargoes? 

This  celebrated  maxim,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  basis  of  the  new 
maritime  code,  which  the  armed  neutrality  wished  to  introduce,  involves 
two  distinct  propositions.  First,  that  neutral  ships  may  carry  their  own 
wares,  (provided  they  are  not  contraband,  of  which  below,)  to  all  ports, 
whether  belonging  to  neutral  or  belligerent  parties,  provided  they  are  not 
in  a  state  of  blockade.  By  virtue  of  this  principle,  therefore,  the  neutral 
powers  wished  to  have  the  free  navigation  and  conveyance  of  their  own 
products,  (with  the  above  restrictions,)  not  only  to  the  ports  of  all  neutral 
states,  but  also  to  those  of  France,  Spain,  Holland,  etc.  But  what  was 
of  still  greater  consequence,  they  desired  also,  in  the  second  place,  free 
permission,  not  only  to  carry  to  those  countries  their  own  wares,  and  to 
bring  away  what  they  had  purchased  there,  but  also  to  convey,  where 
and  how  they  pleased,  the  goods  of  the  belligerent  parties ;  thus,  for  ex- 
ample, freely  and  at  discretion  to  take  in  French  wares  and  French  pro- 
perty, without  let  or  hinderance  from  British  ships  or  privateers ;  and 
British  wares,  without  let  or  hinderance  from  the  enemies  of  England. 

The  great  practical  importance  of  this  question  will  become  apparent  at 
once  to  all  who  bestow  the  slightest  reflection  upon  it.  Were  it  generally 
recognised  by  maritime  powers,  maritime  wars  would  no  longer  exercise 
any  very  considerable  influence  on  the  trade  and  commerce  of  nations. 
It  is  true,  a  war  might,  perhaps,  hinder  the  belligerent  powers  from  con- 
tinuing their  trade  in  native  vessels,  unless,  indeed,  sufficiently  strong  at 
sea  to  protect  it ;  but  this  evil  would  be  easily  remedied,  as  neutral  ves- 
sels would  naturally  hasten  in  sufficient  numbers  to  their  ports,  in  order 
to  transport  their  merchandise  to  whatever  part  of  the  world  it  might  be 
destined.  Instead,  therefore,  of  a  maritime  war  being,  as  it  is  now,  ex- 
tremely prejudicial  to  neutrals,  from  the  many  annoyances  it  occasions 
them,  it  would,  in  this  case,  be  advantageous  to  them,  as  they  could  not 
fail  to  be  employed  in  the  transport  of  merchandise,  and  consequently  to 
draw  a  large  share  of  the  carrying-trade  to  themselves. 

From  this  it  will  readily  be  perceived  why  England,  m  her  present 
position,  was  so  deeply  interested  in  withholding  her  assent  to  this  prin- 
ciple. England  is  powerful  enough  at  sea  to  protect  her  own  commerce, 
and  to  carry  it  on,  even  in  the  midst  of  war,  without  any  considerable 


502 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


503 


interruption.  Her  enemies  are  notoriously  too  weak  to  do  the  same,  con- 
sequently in  war  their  trade  is  almost  annihilated.  Had  England,  then, 
recognised  this  principle,  the  trade  of  France,  Holland,  etc.,  would  have 
immediately  revived,  which  England,  who  naturally  regards  her  com- 
merce as  the  mainspring  of  her  power,  is,  for  that  very  reason,  anxious 
to  repress.  Those  countries,  it  is  true,  would  not  have  been  able,  had 
England  given  way,  to  carry  on  their  trade  in  their  own  bottoms ;  but  they 
would  have  carried  it  on  in  the  ships  of  neutrals,  or  under  neutral  fla^^s. 
The  extent,  as  well  as  the  importance  of  this  principle,  being  then 
sufficiently  obvious,  let  us  now  see  what  may  be  determined  respecting 
it ;  whether  it  is  founded  on  the  principles  of  natural  law,  upon  the  tacit 
agreement  of  civilized  nations,  or  finally,  on  express  stipulations  between 
the  now  contending  powers. 

The  law  of  nature,  as  applied  to  war,  or  pure  military  law,  recognises 
no  further  principle  than  "  I  injure  my  enemy  wherever  I  can,"  and  in 
this  is  comprised,  "  I  take  from  him  his  property  wherever  I  can."  The 
principle  of  free  ship,  free  cargo,  in  its  full  extent,  that  is,  if  it  means  an 
enemy's  goods  are  to  be  free  in  neutral  ships,  is,  therefore,  not  recog- 
nised by  pure  military  law.  It  would  be  difficult,  therefore,  to  prove 
from  the  law  of  nature,  that  if  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen  wage  war 
with  each  other,  they  are,  notwithstanding,  obliged  to  spare  each  other's 
property.  This  does  not,  however,  imply,  that  if  an  Englishman  finds 
the  goods  of  an  enemy  in  a  neutral  ship,  he  is  immediately  justified  in 
taking  possession  of  the  ship,  for  the  mere  conveyance  of  an  enemy's 
wares,  obviously  involves  no  act  of  hostility  towards  him  ;  but  it  cannot, 
with  any  truth,  be  asserted,  on  the  principles  of  natural  law,  that  he  is 
bound  to  let  the  property  of  an  enemy  escape  free. 

But  why  this  appeal  to  the  law  of  nature  ?  It  is,  happily,  now  uni- 
versally understood,  that  this  is  no  longer  admitted  as  a  rule  in  modern 
warfare.  It  is  one  of  the  fairest  fruits  of  civilization,  that  states  only 
war  with  states,  not  with  private  individuals,  to  which,  unhappily,  pri- 
vateering (and  that,  viewed  in  the  most  favourable  light,  is  nothing  bet- 
ter than  piracy  on  a  limited  scale)  still  forms  an  exception.  It  is,  there- 
fore, evident,  that  in  determining  this  question,  we  must  not  have  recourse 
to  the  law  of  nature,  but  to  conventional  law  or  express  compacts. 

The  next  question,  therefore,  is,  whether  the  principle,  "  free  ship, 
free  cargo,"  has  ever  been  generally  observed  ?  this  ever  being  limited 
to  what  has  been  introduced  among  the  civilized  nations  of  Europe  in  the 
two  last  centuries.  In  order  to  determine  this,  we  need  only  cast  a 
glance  over  the  history  of  the  wars  since  the  treaty  of  Westphalia,  and 
we  shall  find  this  question  answered  in  the  negative  thus  far :  Neutrals 
have  certainly  generally  laid  claim  to  it,  but  belligerent  powers,  during 
war,  have  never  been  willing  to  recognise  it. 

In  the  great  war  which  Lewis  XIV.,  in  1688,  commenced  with  almost 
the  whole  of  western  Europe,  the  right  of  neutral  flags  was  expressly 
denied  on  the  side  of  England,  while  William  III.  went  so  far  as  at  once 
to  forbid  all  communication  with  France.  It  was  also  in  vain  that  the 
Dutch,  who  were  the  greatest  sufferers,  made  representations  to  him 
respecting  it.  He  gave  the  most  suitable  answer  which  could  be  given 
to  these  representations—"  Let  this  be  the  canon  law." 

In  the  eighteenth  century,  the  question  respecting  the  rights  of  neu- 
tral flags  was  not  agitated  till  after  the  close  of  tlie  war  of  the  Spanish 


succession.  It  was  first  brought  forward  in  the  great  northern  war 
which  still  continued.  That  it  did  not  arise  during  the  Spanish  war, 
was  owing  to  the  peculiar  situation  of  the  parties  ;  in  the  west  of  Europe 
there  were  no  neutrals,  and  the  eastern  powers  had  enough  to  do  amongst 
themselves.  Another  and  a  stronger  reason  was,  that  Holland,  during 
the  war,  though  hostile  to  France  and  Spain,  still  carried  on  a  tolerably 
extensive  trade  with  these  two  countries,  which  England  either  could 
not,  or  would  not,  hinder.  But  the  trade  which  the  Dutch,  as  neutrals, 
carried  on  in  the  Baltic,  soon  brought  the  matter  to  a  crisis.  Charles 
XII.  refused  to  recognise  the  right  of  neutral  flags  ;  the  Swedish  priva- 
teers captured  indiscriminately  all  vessels  bound  to  ports  of  the  enemy, 
so  that  Holland  and  England  were  obliged  to  send,  1715,  a  combined 
fleet  to  the  Baltic  for  the  protection  of  their  commerce. 

On  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  between  Spain  and  England  in  1739, 
and  the  war  of  the  Austrian  succession  in  1740,  in  which  Holland  re- 
mained neutral  as  long  as  she  could,  the  dispute  was  again  revived. 
The  English  having  captured  a  great  number  of  Dutch  vessels  on  their 
way  to  Spain,  the  latter  complained,  and  appealed  expressly  to  the  com- 
mercial treaty  of  1674,  in  which  England  had  recognised  the  principle 
of  "  free  ship,  free  cargo,"  in  respect  to  them  ;  but  nothing  of  any  con- 
sequence was  settled. 

No  further  progress  had  been  made,  when,  in  1743,  the  war  between 
Russia  and  Sweden  broke  out.  The  latter  power  again  refused  to  con- 
cede to  the  Dutch  the  right  of  neutral  flags,  and  the  latter  were  once 
more  compelled  to  send  a  fleet  to  protect  their  trade  in  the  Baltic. 

The  seven  years'  war  had  scarcely  broken  out,  in  1756,  before  the 
Dutch  renewed  their  old  complaints  against  England.  Desirous  to  turn 
their  neutral  position  to  account,  and  that  under  the  protection  of  the 
neutral  flag  they  might  be  allowed  to  carry  on  the  trade  between  France 
and  her  colonies,  more  especially  the  West  Indies,  the  latter  again  ap- 
pealed to  the  commercial  treaty  of  1674.  But  the  English,  admitting  their 
claims  just  as  little  as  before,  made  prizes  of  their  merchantmen  whenever 
they  found  them  bound  to  an  enemy's  port,  or  laden  with  an  enemy's  goods. 
Thus  matters  went  on  till  the  breaking  out  of  the  American  war. 
During  its  course  the  complaints  about  the  oppression  of  neutral  ship- 
ping became  again  very  loud.  An  armed  neutrality  was  negotiated  in 
1780,  by  Catharine  IL,  the  basis  of  which  was  the  maxim,  ''free  ship, 
free  cargo,"  England  certainly  did  not  formally  recognise  this  princi- 
ple ;  but  she  tacitly  submitted  to  it,  as  she  felt  herself  obliged  to  suc- 
cumb to  the  circumstances  of  the  time. 

This  survey,  we  think,  will  make  it  quite  clear  that  this  principle  was 
very  far  from  having  been  ever  generally  recognised  in  the  course  of  the 
war  by  tacit  agreement,  though  it  certainly  was,  once  and  again,  by 
separate  treaties  between  individual  powers,  but  concluded,  for  the  most 
part,  in  time  of  peace.  Biisch,  in  his  Geschichte  der  Zerrutung  des  See- 
handels,  {History  of  the  Obstructions  to  Maritime  Commerce,)  h^  taken 
the  trouble  to  enumerate  these  singly,  and  has  found  thirty-six  treaties 
for,  and  only  fifteen  against,  this  principle.  But  what  remedies  did  these 
treaties  provide  ?  No  sooner  did  a  war  break  out  than  the  nations  who 
had  contracted  them  felt  themselves  at  liberty  to  violate  their  obliga- 
tions, and  made  such  partial  arrangements  as  suited  their  own  interest. 
This  was  done,  not  only  by  England,  but  by  most  of  the  other  states, 


;04 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


505 


whenever  they  felt  themselves  sufficiently  strong  to  do  so;  and  who  can 
say  that  the  like  will  not  happen  again. 

Let  us  now  address  ourselves  to  the  second  question,  which  is  closely 
connected  with  this. 

11.    What  is  Contraband  ? 

"When  two  states  are  at  war  with  each  other,  it  is  scarcely  possible  for 
any  obligation  to  arise  out  of  it  affecting  a  third  party  in  respect  to  its 
commerce,  so  as  to  preclude  it  from  selling  certain  articles,  even  though 
they  should  be  directly  intended  for  carrying  on  the  war,  provided  it 
supplies  them  fairly  to  the  highest  bidder.  But  supposing  the  said  state 
should  be  willing  to  sell  them  to  one  state  and  refuse  them  to  another, 
this  would  expressly  indicate  a  disposition  to  favour  one  at  the  expense 
of  the  other ;  and  the  state  thus  acting  could  no  longer  be  regarded  as 
a  neutral  power.  According  to  the  principles  of  natural  law,  therefore, 
nothing  contraband,  under  the  above-stated  condition,  can  exist.  This, 
however,  is  not  the  place  for  investigating  this  question  further ;  it  is, 
besides,  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference  what  opinion  may  be  formed  re- 
specting it,  as  the  conventional  law  of  nations  has  long  since  decided 
otherwise  respecting  it.  In  this,  to  wit,  an  important  difference  is  estab- 
lished between  various  articles  :  I.  Those  directly  used  in  warfare,  such 
as  ammunition,  arms,  and  all  kinds  of  ready-made  weapons.  11.  Those 
which  only  indirectly  serve  for  that  purpose,  such  as  unwrought  iron, 
copper,  ship-timber,  etc.,  from  which  must  be  distinguished.  III.  Those 
which  have  properly  no  reference  to  the  war,  such  as  provisions,  fine 
linen,  cloths,  etc. 

All  treaties  of  commerce,  without  exception,  which  have  been  con- 
cluded during  the  last  few  centuries,  between  European  states,  and  have 
contained  definitions  of  what  is  contraband,  agree  in  this,  that  the  arti- 
cles. No.  I.,  are  interpreted  as  such.  The  agreement  in  this  is  so  general, 
that  the  more  precise  definition  of  it,  or  the  enumeration  of  the  several 
articles,  has  become  a  standard  formulary,  which  always  recurs  totidem 
verbisy  as  may  be  seen  in  the  various  acts  of  neutrality  which  have  been 
published.  Consequently  it  is  a  generally  recognised  principle  of  posi- 
tive European  international  law,  that  all  articles  directly  used  in  warfare, 
attempted  to  be  conveyed  by  neutrals  to  nations  engaged  in  war,  imme- 
diately become  contraband. 

But  however  general  the  agreement  may  be,  that  these  articles  are 
interdicted,  it  is  by  no  means  so  generally  agreed  that  they  are  exclu- 
sively so.  It  has  more  frequently  happened,  indeed,  that  the  European 
powers,  especially  on  the  breaking  out  of  a  war,  have  interpreted  as  con- 
traband whatever  they  thought  proper,  and  have  consequently  made 
No.  II.,  and  even  No.  III.  so,  just  as  it  might  happen  to  suit  their  con- 
venience. The  English,  it  must  be  confessed,  were  not  behind-hand  in 
doing  this ;  but  thert  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  they  did  it  alone. 
Others,  as  for  example,  Sweden,  have  gone  as  far,  or  even  farther ;  but, 
as  they  had  not  the  same  power  to  enforce  their  views  as  the  English 
had,  the  inconvenience  resulting  therefrom  was  not  so  sensibly  felt. 

Several  circumstances,  and  particularly  the  following,  have  contri- 
buted to  extend  the  meaning  of  the  word  contraband  :  First,  It  is  quite 
natural  that  a  belligerent  nation  should  feel  sore  in  seeing  articles  con- 
veyed to  its  enemies,  which,  though  not  yet  wrought  into  arms  and  im- 


plements of  war,  may  soon  become  so,  and  in  all  probability  are  design- 
ed for  that  purpose.  Secondly  :  It  is  well  known,  that  in  the  present 
day,  the  western  maritime  powers  obtain  the  greatest  part  of  their  ship 
timbers  from  the  northern  and  eastern  countries  of  this  part  of  the 
world.  In  naval  wars,  the  aim  for  a  long  period  has  been,  and  never 
more  so  than  at  the  present  moment,  not  only  to  annihilate  the  enemy's 
fleets,  but  to  obstruct  as  much  as  possible  the  building  of  new  ones. 
The  ardour  with  which  England  has  pursued  this  object  is  known  to 
every  one.  For  this  reason,  therefore,  ship-timber  is  one  of  the  articles 
which  England  insists  upon  being  included  in  the  list  of  contraband 
goods  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand^  the  northern  powers  are  especially  in- 
terested in  having  it  omitted,  as  it  forms  the  bulk  of  their  exports.  If 
to  this  we  add  (as  was  the  case  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution)  the  en- 
deavours made  to  embarrass  the  enemy  by  impeding  the  conveyance  of 
provisions,  or  generally  to  weaken  him  by  the  complete  annihilation  of 
his  commerce,  without  respect  to  the  losses  which  neutrals  may  thereby 
sustain,  it  will  easily  be  perceived  that,  eventually,  every  thing  will  be 
reckoned  as  contraband  which  is  not  ballast,  and,  consecjuently,  that  all 
trade  with  an  enemy's  country  will  be  virtually  suspended. 

Whatever  opinions  may  be  formed  as  to  the  legality  and  good  policy 
of  this  proceeding,  the  following  points  we  think  will  now  be  clear :  In 
the  first  place,  according  to  the  generally  recognised  international  law 
of  Europe,  only  the  immediate  necessaries  of  war  can  possibly  be  regard- 
ed as  contraband  ;  and  if,  in  the  second  place,  other  articles  should  also 
be  interpreted  as  such,  this  must  be  settled,  as  an  exception  to  the  rule, 
by  express  treaties  between  the  several  nations,  unless  mere  force  is  to 
supersede  right. 

These  principles  appear  to  be  at  present  actually  recognised  by  both  par- 
ties. For  not  only  is  the  restriction,  which  the  existing  special  treaties  of 
individual  powers  exhibit,  expressly  recognised  in  the  act  of  neutrality,  in 
the  definition  of  contraband  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  minister  in 
the  debates  of  the  British  parliament,  appeals  also  expressly  to  the  ex- 
isting treaties  of  commerce  with  the  northern  powers.^  An  analysis  of 
these,  therefore,  can  alone  afford  us  a  deeper  insight  into  the  question. 

The  treaties  of  commerce  quoted  in  parliament  were  that  with  Swe- 
den of  1661  ;  that  with  Denmark  of  1670  ;  and  that  with  Russia  of 
1793.  The  continuance  of  these  was  expressly  asserted  ;  whether  it 
was  recognised  on  the  other  side  or  not,  is  irrelevant  to  the  question, 
which  entirely  turns  upon  the  stipulations  which  the  treaties  contained. 

In  the  treaty  with  Sweden,^  the  following  articles  are  those  which  re- 
quire to  be  noticed  : 

Art.  V.  "  The  ships,  goods,  and  ships'  crews  of  either  nation,  shall, 
under  no  pretence,  either  publicly  or  privately,  either  by  general  or 
special  command,  be  laid  under  arrest,  detained,  or  in  any  way  treated 
with  violence  in  the  ports  of  either  country." 

Art.  XI.  "Although  it  has  been  settled  between  the  two  powers, 
that  neither  shall  succour  the  enemy  of  the  other,  this  is  not  to  be  so 
understood  as  that  all  commerce  and  traffic  with  the  enemy  of  a  bellige- 
rent party  shall  be  interdicted  to  a  neutral  ally.     It  shall  only  be  de- 

>  Vide  the  speech  of  Pitt,  February  2,  1801,  in  Speeches,  iii.  p.  229. 
«  It  will  be  foxrnd  at  length  in  Schmauss,  Corpus  Juris  gentium  Academieum,  p.  2302, 
and  in  the  other  well-known  collections. 

2  L 


I 


L. 


506 


APPENDIX. 


cided  that  no  wares  which  are  contraband,  and  of  course  no  gold,  pro- 
visions, arms,  (here  follows  the  usual  form,)  shall  be  conveyed  to  the 
enemy  of  the  other  ;  otherwise,  if  they  should  be  captured,  they  are  to 
be  considered  lawful  booty.  Neither  of  the  contracting  parties  is  to 
support  the  enemy  of  the  other,  either  by  selling  or  lending  him  ships  ; 
yet  each  of  the  parties  shall  be  at  liberty  to  trade  with  the  enemy  of  the 
other,  and  to  convey  to  him  wares  of  every  description,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  those  above  specified,  without  molestation,  excepting  to  harbours 
and  places  in  a  state  of  blockade.** 

Art.  XII.  "  But  in  order  that  an  enemy's  goods  may  not  be  concealed 
under  neutral  names,  ships,  as  well  as  stage  waggons,  shall  be  provided 
with  passports  and  certificates  (the  formula  of  which  is  inserted  at  length). 
If  in  this  case  the  ships  of  neutral  powers  shall  fall  in  with  the  ships  of 
war  or  privateers  of  the  others,  the  first  shall  only  be  required  to  pro- 
duce their  papers,  without  being  liable  to  further  search  or  molestation. 
Should  they  not  be  provided- with  papers,  or  if  otherwise  there  should 
be  any  urgent  cause  for  suspicion  to  warrant  the  searching  of  the  ship, 
(which  is  only  to  be  permitted  in  these  cases,)  then,  if  an  enemy's  goods 
shall  be  discovered,  these  shall  be  lawful  prize,  but  the  rest  shall  be 
immediately  restored." 

If,  then,  this  treaty  was  recognised  as  the  basis  of  the  maritime  law 
between  England  and  Sweden,  by  both  these  powers  it  will  follow  : 

First.  That  the  principle,  "  free  ship,  free  cargo,"  had  not,  between 
England  and  Sweden,  the  extent  which  was  conceded  to  it  in  the  armed 
neutrality.  It  must  be  admitted,  certainly,  that  Sweden  is  allowed  to 
carry  on  a  free  trade  in  neutral  property  (not  contraband)  to  an  enemy's 
port,  which  is  not  blockaded  ;  yet  not  to  convey  an  enemy's  property.  Swe- 
den would  not  dare  to  convey  French  or  Dutch  merchandise  under  her  flag. 

Second.  The  definition  of  contraband  admits  this  further  extension, 
that  besides  the  direct  necessaries  of  war,  money  also  and  provisions  are 
included  under  it ;  but  not  the  indirect  necessaries  of  war ;  not  the 
principal  products  of  Sweden,  iron,  copper,  and  ship-timber.  Sweden 
would  certainly  at  the  present  time  readily  acquiesce  in  this  extension, 
because  she  wishes  to  check  the  export  of  specie,  and  is  no  longer  in  pos- 
session of  the  rich  corn-lands  about  the  Baltic,  which  she  had  in  1661. 

Such,  then,  are  the  relations  between  England  and  Sweden,  according 
to  those  treaties  :  now  follow  those  between  England  and  Denmark. 
They  are  founded,  according  to  the  speech  of  the  minister  in  parliament, 
on  the  treaty  of  1670. 

In  that,  the  commercial  treaty  which  was  concluded  between  Charles 
II.  and  Christian  V.,  the  articles  X.  XI.  contain  the  definition  of  what 
was  contraband.  But  we  need  not  go  back  even  to  that  source,  for  by 
a  later  convention,  which  was  signed  on  4th  July,  1780,  (a  few  days  be- 
fore Denmark  acceded  to  the  first  armed  neutrality,)  an  explanation  of 
that  article  has  been  given,  which  here  follows  :  ^ 

"But  in  order  to  leave  no  doubt  respecting  what  is  understood  by 
contraband,  it  is  agreed  that  this  designation  comprises  nothing  but 
arms,  as  cannon,  etc.  etc.,  (here  follows  the  usual  formula,)  as  well  as 
timber,  pitch,  copper  in  plates,  sails,  hemp,  cordage,  and,  in  a  word, 
every  thing  which  serves  for  the  equipment  of  a  ship  ;  yet  with  the  ex- 
ception of  un wrought  iron  and  planks.     As  for  the  rest,  it  is  expressly 

*  Vide  Marten's  Recueil,  etc.  etc.,  ii.  p.  102. 


APPENDIX. 


507 


declared,  that  under  the  designation  of  contraband  shall  not  be  compre- 
hended any  kind  of  provisions,  such  as  fish,  flesh,  corn,  etc.  etc.,  the 
conveyance  of  which  to  hostile  ports,  if  not  under  blockade,  is  always 
to  be  allowed." 

Now,  although  Denmark,  as  early  as  9th  July,  1780,  acceded  to  the 
armed  neutrality,  yet  this  document  was  not  abolished  nor  infringed, 
since  in  that  convention  the  definition  of  contraband  was  expressly  re- 
ferred to  the  existing  treaties  between  the  several  powers  ;  so  again  the 
acceding  to  the  second  armed  neutrality  did  not  abolish  it,  since,  not- 
withstanding the  general  restriction  of  contraband  to  immediate  neces- 
saries of  war,  yet  the  annexation  of  this  proviso,  without  infringing  the 
existing  compacts  between  the  several  powers,  leaves  it  in  full  force.  It 
is  obvious,  therefore,  that  Denmark,  by  her  commercial  contracts  with 
England,  was,  with  regard  to  contraband  goods,  so  far  bound  more 
strictly  to  consider  every  thing  which  has  reference  to  the  building  and 
equipment  of  ships  as  comprised  in  the  definition  ;  but  not,  on  the  other 
hand,  provisions  and  money,  which  Sweden  had  recognised  as  such. 

Lastly,  as  regards  Russivt,  the  British  minister  referred  in  his  speech 
to  the  convention  of  1793.  This  convention  is  the  treaty  of  alliance 
which  Catharine  II.  at  that  time  concluded  with  England  against 
France.'*  It  contains.  Art.  XI.,  the  definition  :  "  That  not  only  all 
kinds  of  supplies  and  provisions  are  to  be  regarded  as  contraband,  but 
that  they  will  also,  on  both  sides,  generally  injure,  in  every  possible 
way,  the  French  commerce,"  so  that  the  idea  of  contraband  is  certainly 
here  taken  in  its  widest  extent. 

After  this  investigation  there  still  remain  to  be  considered  the  two 
other  points  which  formed  the  subject  of  controversy,  viz. : 

III.  Are  Neutral  Ships  under  Convoy  liable  to  Search  or  not  ? 

This  question  was,  as  is  well  known,  aflirmatively  answered  on  the 
part  of  England,  and  negatively  on  the  part  of  the  other  states  ;  and 
although  Denmark  promised  in  the  last  contest  not  to  allow  her  ships, 
for  the  present,  to  convoy,  she  nevertheless  refused,  in  any  way,  to  re- 
cognise the  principle  of  search.  The  whole  tone  of  the  proceeding 
rather  showed  that  the  Danish  government  regarded  the  assertion  of  the 
opposite  principle  as  a  main  point,  on  which  not  only  the  interests  of 
commerce,  but  also  the  honour  of  her  flag,  and,  indeed,  in  some  degree 
even  the  independence  of  herself  as  a  state,  was  concerned. 

But  in  order  to  exhibit  this  subject  in  its  true  light,  it  is  necessary  to 
explain  first  somewhat  more  distinctly  what  the  idea  of  convoy  involves 
in  maritime  afiairs  and  in  maritime  law. 

A  convoy  is  well  known  to  be  a  guard  of  one  or  more  men-of-war, 
which  the  state  grants  to  a  number  of  merchant  vessels  for  their  pro- 
tection. It  is  not,  therefore,  a  private,  but  a  public  afiair.  But  the 
granting  of  a  convoy  according  to  the  received  maritime  law,  involves 
the  following  : 

I.  When  the  state  grants  it,  then  only  armed  ships  in  the  service  of 
the  state  can  be  used  for  that  purpose,  in  which  case  it  is  however  of  no 
consequence  to  what  class  they  belong.  Therefore,  privateers,  which 
perhaps  are  bought  for  the  purpose,  or  even  other  armed  vessels,  which 
private  persons  cause  to  be  fitted  out,  would  have  no  legitimate  claim  to 

*  Politisches  Journal,  1793. 


508 


APPENDIX. 


the  privileges  of  a  proper  convoy.  II.  When  the  neutral  state  grants  a 
convoy,  it  immediately  gives  security  that  the  merchant  vessels  contain 
no  wares  which,  according  to  general  maritime  law,  or  specific  treaties 
with  particular  powers,  are  contraband.  In  short,  the  merchant  vessels, 
before  they  are  taken  under  convoy,  must  be  previously  subjected  to  a 
strict  examination  of  their  papers,  which  must  be  conducted  by  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  convoy.  In  Denmark,  probably  also  in 
Sweden  and  Russia,  the  commanding  officer  himself  is  even  made  re- 
sponsible for  it.  III.  It  is  not,  therefore,  every  ship  which  can,  at  its 
own  discretion,  obtain  convoy  even  if  its  papers  are  in  perfect  order. 
The  state  does  not  readily  undertake  the  responsibility  for  foreign  ships. 
It  is  more  usual  for  each  state  to  allow  only  its  own  ships  to  convoy. 
Agreements,  however,  may  easily  be  entered  into,  especially  where  se- 
veral powers  bind  themselves  to  an  armed  neutrality,  which  may  occa- 
sion deviations  from  the  rule. 

Hence  it  will  be  clearly  seen  why  this  disputed  point  is  regarded, 
especially  by  neutrals,  as  a  question  of  honour.  The  search  of  a  convoy 
is  tantamount  to  a  refusal  to  accept  the  given  security,  and  the  pledged 
word  of  honour  of  a  state,  and  the  denial  of  a  right  which  has  been 
hitherto  conceded  to  every  independent  state  as  such.  The  correspond- 
ence which  passed  between  the  Danish  government  and  the  British 
Charge  d'Affaires  at  Copenhagen,  perhaps  exhausted  every  thing  which 
can  be  said  on  this  subject. 

Some  readers  will  perhaps  ask  whether  something  has  not  been  de- 
termined on  this  point  in  the  commercial  treaties.  But  in  no  single 
known  treaty,  and  not  even  once  in  the  acts  of  the  armed  neutrality  of 
1780,  has  there  been  the  slightest  mention  made  of  it  ;  doubtless  be- 
cause in  the  European  maritime  law  which  existed  before  that  time,  the 
freedom  of  a  convoy  was  taken  for  granted.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  ob- 
vious that  the  opposite  claim  could  never  be  preferred  by  any  European 
power  which  is  not  possessed  of  a  similar  decisive  preponderance  at  sea 
to  that  which  Great  Britain  has  at  present. 

IV.    When  are  Harbours  to  be  considered  as  Blockaded  ? 

In  the  earlier  treaties  nothing  was  decided  on  this  point,  because  the 
answer  was  self-evident :  when  theij  are  really  blockaded.  But  Eng- 
land gave  to  the  phrase  an  extension  of  meaning  which  few  will  be  pre- 
pared to  justify,  that  the  bare  declaration,  *  that  a  port  is  blockaded,  at 
once  constitutes  a  blockade.'  Indeed  this  was  then  extended  even  to 
the  whole  line  of  coast.  In  consequence,  the  Act  of  Neutrality  con- 
tains this  just  definition,  Art.  III.  "  That  the  name  of  a  blockaded  port 
belongs  only  to  that  which  is  blocked  up  by  a  number  of  ships  of  war 
lying  before  it  and  stationed  sufficiently  near,  that  the  entrance  cannot 
be  hazarded  without  manifest  danger ;  and  that  the  vessel  which  steers 
its  course  in  that  direction  shall  not  be  regarded  as  acting  in  opposition 
to  the  convention  until  it  makes  the  attempt  to  effect  an  entrance,  either 
by  force  or  stratagem,  after  it  has  been  apprized  of  the  condition  of  the 
harbour  by  the  commander  of  the  blockading  squadron." 


JOHN    CHILDS   AND   SON,    BUNGAY. 


INDEX 


to 


ANCIENT    GREECE. 


Acarnania,  geographical  view,  16. 

Achceans,  a  tribe  of  the  Hellenes,  22. 
confined  by  the  Heraclidae  to  Achaia,  23. 

Acusilaus  of  Argos,  211. 

^gean  Sea,  circled  with  Grecian  colo- 
nies, 64. 

JEgina,  19.  money  first  coined  here,  130. 

uEoUans,  a  tribe  of  the  Hellenes,  22. 
chiefly  mingled  with  the  Dorians,  ib. 
early  established  themselves  near  the 
ruins  of  Troy,  63.  and  in  Lesbos,  64. 

JEschines,  189. 

jEschylus,  the  father  of  the  drama,  221. 

^tolia,  geographical  view,  16. 

Agesilam,  156.  the  change  he  made  in 
Grecian  tactics,  162.  the  first  to  form  a 
numerous  cavalry,  ib. 

Agriculture,  state  of,  in  the  heroic  age,  56. 
its  estimation  among  the  Greeks,  126. 

Alcibiades,  102.  his  public  character,  182. 

Alexander  the  Great,  189. 

Alps,  The,  their  influence  on  the  history  of 
our  race,  xi. 

Alyattes,  the  first  foreigner  who  made  ap- 
plication at  Delphi,  83. 

Amasis,  probably  king  of  Egypt  when 
Pythagoras  visited  it,  195. 

Amphictyonic  Assemblies,  their  influence 
on  the  political  union  of  the  Greeks,  87. 
their  origin,  89.  the  Assembly  of  Del- 
phi, ib.  who  took  part  in  it,  90,  its  du- 
ties, 91.  its  influence  on  the  nation,  92. 

AmyclcE,  4. 

Anaxagoras,  194. 

Andocides,  186. 

Antiphon,  186. 

Antisthenes,  205. 

Apelles,  232. 

Arcadia,  2.  its  inhabitants  pastoral,  3. 

Archelaus  of  Abdera,  222. 

Architecture  was  confined  to  public  build- 
ings, 228.  begun  with  the  construction 
of  temples,  ib.  theatres,  &c.,  229.  the 
distinction  of  domestic  and  public  archi- 
tecture, 229. 

Archofis,  The,  at  Athens,  120. 

2  M 


Archytas,  198. 

Areopa{/tts,  the  most  ancient  Grecian 
court,  147. 

Argolis,  geographical  view,  4. 

Argonauts,  date  of  their  expedition,  51. 

Aristides,  treasurer  of  the  national  treasu- 
ry, 99.  his  character  and  influence,  177. 

Aristippus,  205. 

Aristocracies,  among  the  Greeks,  107. 

Aristophanes,  225,  226. 

Arts,  The,  their  connexion  with  the  state, 
227.  were  exclusively  public  among  the 
Greeks,  227,  233. 

Asia  Minora  the  Dorians  early  flourished 
on  its  coasts,  23.  the  people  of  this 
country  early  devoted  to  commerce  and 
the  founding  of  colonies,  44,  within  a  cen- 
tury after  the  Trojan  war,  its  western 
coast  occupied  by  Grecian  cities,  63. 

Assemblies  among  the  Greeks,  111. 

Athens,  geographical  view,  11.  gradual 
change  in  its  constitution,  66.  shakes 
off  the  PisistratidaB,  93.  alone  repelled 
the  invasion  of  Darius  Hystaspes,  95. 
Greece  was  indebted  for  its  freedom  to 
Athens,  ib.  burnt  by  Xerxes,  96.  gains 
the  supremacy  in  the  Persian  wars,  98. 
establishes  a  general  treasury  and 
common  fleet,  99.  acknowledged  to  be 
the  first  city  of  Greece,  100.  how  her 
power  was  exercised,  101.  change  in 
her  relations  with  various  states,  ib. 
the  tribute  fixed  on  the  conquered 
states,  102.  her  assumption  of  judiciary 
power,  ib.  its  sources  of  revenue  and 
taxation,  137.  the  army  was  subordinate 
to  the  navy,  157.  the  political  divisions 
were  military  in  their  origin,  ib.  had 
little  cavalry,  and  that  expensive,  158. 
directed  the  taste  of  other  cities,  222. 
the  architectural  grandeur  confined  to 
public  buildings,  228. 

Attica,  geographical  view,  9. 

Bards.     See  Poets. 
Bias,  174. 


510 


INDEX  TO  ANCIENT  GREECE. 


Boeotia,  geographical  view,  14. 
BovXal^  among  the  Greeks,  113. 
Brasidas,  156. 

Cadmus,  his  migration  into  Greece,  45. 
Cadmus  of  Miletus,  211. 
Callimachus,  161. 

Cavalry,  the  Grecian  states  had  little  or 
none,  159.  their  equipment,  ib.  a  numer- 
ous one  first  formed  by  Agesilaus,  162. 
Cecrops,  his  migration  into  Greece,  45. 
Charon  of  Lampsacus,  211. 
Chilo,  174. 
Chios,  a  school  of  bards,  the  Homeridae, 

formed  here,  76. 
Choruses,  were  the  chief  ornament  of  the 

festivals,  219.  their  antiquity,  220. 
Cimon,  162.  his  character  and  influence, 

178. 
Citizenship,  among  the  Greeks,   109.  in 

the  colonies,  110. 
Clearchus,  166. 
Cleobulus,  174. 
Coining,  the  art  probably  received  by  the 

Greeks  from  Lydia,  130. 
Coins,  Grecian,  extant,  129.  their  exceed- 
ing beauty,  1 30.  at  first  were  probably 
of  silver  only,  131.  alloyed  in  the  time 
of  Solon,  ib. 
Colonies,  in  Greece,  44.  that  of  Cecrops, 
45.  of  Danaus,  ih.  of  Cadmus,  ib.  that 
of  Pelops,  46.  their  influence  on  the 
Greeks,  ib.  in  Asia  Minor,  63,  64,  94. 
these  delivered  from  Persian  suprem- 
acy, 96. 
Columbus,  viii. 

Comedy,  among  the  Greeks,  224.  its  po- 
litical influence,  225.  its  licentiousness, 
ib. 
Constitutions  of  the  Grecian  cities  and 
states,  104,  et  seq.  their  value,  121. 
their  great  variety,  122.  their  essential 
defects,  236. 
Corcyra,  18. 

Corinth,  8.  the  extent  of  its  district,  105. 
Cosmi,  The,  of  Crete,  119. 
Councils  among  the  Greeks,  113. 
Cratinus,  his  plays,  226. 
Custom  Duties  among  the  Greeks,  141. 
CyUm,  197. 

Cyme  founded  by  iEolians,  64. 
Cythera,  19. 

Danaus,  his  migration  into  Greece,  45. 

Darius  Hystaspes,  his  invasion  of  Greece. 
95. 

Delos,  19.  the  temple  at,  a  national  tem- 
ple, 82.  the  common  treasury  of  Greece 
fixed  here,  99. 

Delphi,  the  temple  and  oracle  of,  founded 
by  a  Cretan  colony,  47.  a  national  tem- 
ple, 82.  the  Pythian  games  at,  84.  the 
Amphictyonic  council  held  here,  89. 
its  treasures,  134. 

Democracies  among  the  Greeks,  107. 


Demodocus,  68. 

Demosthenes,  127.  his  history  and  charac- 
ter, 187. 

DiotogeneSy  198. 

Diphilus,  his  plays,  226. 

Divinities,  of  the  Greeks  not  of  native 
origin,  28.  but  they  altered  them  and 
made  them  their  property,  29.  those  of 
the  East  represented  the  objects  and 
powers  of  nature,  30.  those  of  the 
Greeks  moral  persons,  31.  they  were 
transformed  by  the  poets,  32.  their 
symbolical  meaning  preserved  in  the 
mysteries,  38.  exercised  a  great  influ- 
ence on  the  spirit  of  the  nation,  39. 

Division,  the  political,  from  the  earliest 
times  a  peculiarity  of  Greece,  53. 
causes  of  this  division,  ib. 

Dodona,  the  oracle  of,  82. 

Dorians,  a  tribe  of  the  Hellenes,  22.  with 
the  ^tolians  occupied  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  Peloponnesus,  a  large 
part  of  the  rest  of  Hellas,  and  several 
islands  in  the  Archipelago,  and  flour- 
ished on  the  coast  of  Asia  Minor,  in 
Lower  Italy,  and  Sicily,  23,  64.  their 
general  characteristics,  24. 

Drama,  The,  was  the  result  of  the  choruses 
at  the  festivals,  220.  how  encouraged 
at  Athens,  ib.  iEschylus  the  father  of 
the  drama,  221. 

East,  The,  its  inferiority  to  Europe,  vii. 
' Hy I fxouia,  came  to  signify  the  same  as 

dominion  of  the  sea,  100. 
'EtcKXija-iat  among  the  Greeks,  111. 
Elis,  geographical  view,  4. 
Empedocles,  199. 
Epaminondas,  163. 
Ephesus  founded,  64. 
EphoH,  The,  116. 
Euboea,  19. 
Euclid,  205. 
Eupatrida,  108. 
Europe,  her  superiority  over  the  other 

parts  of  the  earth,  vii.  always  inhabited 

by  white  men,  ix. 
Eurotas,  The,  3. 

Families,  regulations  of,  in  the  heroic  age. 
58.  ^ 

Festivals  among  the  Greeks,  83.  Hel- 
lenes alone  could  contend  for  prizes  at 
them,  ib.  received  a  national  character, 
84.  the  honours  paid  to  the  victors,  85. 
whatever  was  glorious  and  beautiful 
was  here  produced,  87.  their  import- 
ance in  the  estimation  of  the  Greeks, 
133.  nearly  all  religious  ones,  ib.  their 
cost  to  the  public,  134. 

Finance,  at  first  little  known  in  the  Gre- 
cian cities,  132.  the  public  cost  of  tem- 
ples, 133.  festivals,  134.  and  the  magis- 
tracy, 135.  military  and  naval  estab- 
lishments,  136.   accurate    information 


INDEX  TO  ANCIENT  GREECE. 


511 


on  this  subject  respecting  Athens  only, 
137. 

Gama,  Vasco  de,  viii. 

Tipovcria,  in  various  Grecian  cities,  115. 

Gorgias,  201. 

Greece,  geographical  view,  1.  so  divided 
that  one  state  could  scarcely  gain  su- 
premacy over  the  rest,  19.  favoured  by 
nature  and  position,  20. 

Gythium,  4. 


Harpalus,  189. 

HecatcBus  of  Miletus,  211. 

Heliaa,  at  Athens,  151. 

Hellanicus,  the  Lesbian,  211. 

Hellas,  geographical  view,  9. 

Hellenes,  The,  their  earliest  condition,  21. 
their  power  gradually  increased,  22.  the 
tribes  composing  them,  ib.  received 
their  divinities  from  the  Pelasgi,  28. 
their  character  was  no  where  obliterated 
among  the  Greeks,  80.  their  unity  as  a 
nation  probably  maintained  by  the 
Homeric  poems,  81.  religion  another 
bond  of  union,  ib.  they  alone  could 
contend  for  prizes  at  the  festivals,  83. 

Heraclitus,  199. 

Herodotus  alleges  that  the  Grecian  di- 
vinities  were  of  Egyptian  origin,  28. 
that  Hesiod  and  Homer  invented  the 
Grecian  theogony,  32.  and  designated 
the  forms  of  the  gods,  33.  his  history. 

Heroic  Age,  The,  50.  the  dates  of  its  com- 
mencement and  close  not  clearly  de- 
fined, 62.  ^ 

Hesiod,  alleged  by  Herodotus  to  have 
formed,  with  Homer,  the  divine  world  of 
the  Greeks,  33. 

Hippias,  201. 

Hippodamus,  198. 

History  of  the  Greeks,  its  source  and 
progress,  208,  211.  was  originally 
poetical,  ib.  Herodotus,  212.  Thucy- 
dides,  214. 

Homer,  alleged  by  Herodotus  to  have 
formed,  with  Hesiod,  the  divine  world 
of  the  Greeks,  33.  he  established  the 
popular  notions  of  the  gods,  ib.  the  best 
source  of  information  respecting  the 
heroic  age,  50.  the  obscurity  of  his  his- 
tory, 71.  conditions,  character,  and  in- 
fluence of  his  poems,  72.  he  formed  the 
character  of  the  Greek  nation,  75.  his 
songs  carried  by  Lycurgus  into  the 
Peloponnesus,  77.  his  influence  on  the 
language,  the  spirit,  and  the  political 
character  of  the  Greeks,  77,  78.  his 
poems  arranged  and  committed  to 
writing  by  Pisistratus,  79.  his  poems 
and  those  of  the  Homeridae  probably 
maintained  the  unity  of  the  nation,  81. 
Houses  of  the  Grecian  heroes,  56. 


Infantry  among  the  Greeks,  159.  their 
accoutrement,  ib. 

lonians,  a  branch  of  the  Hellenes,  22.  re- 
tained possession  of  Attica,  Euboea,  and 
several  islands,  23.  colonized  parts  of 
Asia  Minor,  and  the  coasts  of  Italy  and 
Sicily,  24.  their  general  characteristics, 
ib. 

Isocrates,  103. 

Isthmian  Games  at  Corinth,  84. 

Ithaca,  18. 

Judicature,  not  an  independent  branch  of 
the  Grecian  constitutions,  146.  formed 
by  time  and  circumstances,  147.  the 
general  form,  148.  difl'erence  of  public 
and  private  courts,  149.  general  process 
of  suits,  150. 

Justice.  In  the  free  Grecian  states  the  no- 
tion prevailed  that  citizens  must  take 
part  in  the  administration  of  justice. 
148. 

Laconia,  geographical  view,  3. 

Lada,  naval  battle  of,  170. 

Laurium,  its  silver  mines,  131. 

Actxoupytat,  among  the  Greeks,  139. 

Leonidas,  great  as  a  man,  not  as  a  general, 
156. 

Leuctra,  battle  of,  164. 

Linus,  68. 

Locris,  geographical  view,  15. 

Lycurgus,  carried  the  songs  of  Homer  into 
the  Peloponnesus,  77,  78.  did  not  at- 
tempt to  form  a  new  constitution,  106. 

Ly  Sander,  156. 

Lysias,  186. 

Lysippus,  231. 


Magistracy,  The,  in  Grecian  cities,  115. 

eligibility  to  office,  118.  the  different 

kinds  of  magistracy,  119.  its  cost  to  the 

public,  135. 
Mantinea,  battle  of,  164. 
Marathon,  battle   of,  95.   the   Athenian 

army  did  not  exceed  10,000  men,  155. 

the  victory  due  to  the  heroic  spirit  of 

Miltiades,  161. 
Martel,  Charles,  viii. 
Melos,  19. 

Menander,  his  plays,  226. 
Mercenaries,    introduction     among    the 

Greeks,  165. 

Metals,  abundance  of,  in  ancient  Greece. 
57. 

Micon,  232. 

Miletus  founded,  64. 

Militia  in  the  Grecian  states,  154.  the 
poorer  classes  nearly  excluded  from 
military  service,  155.  that  of  Sparta  re? 
sembled  a  standing  army,  156.  where  a 
militia  exists,  the  political  divisions  are 
usually  military  in  their  origin,  157. 

Milo,  the  wrestler,  197. 


512 


INDEX  TO  ANCIENT  GREECE. 


Miltiades,  157.  his  heroic  spirit,  160. 

Mitylene  built,  64. 

Mnesiphilus,  198. 

Money,  when  first  coined  among  the 
Greeks,  128.  silver  coined  money 
known  in  the  time  of -Solon,  129.  its  use 
extended  by  colonies,  130.  first  coined 
at  ^gina,  ib. 

Monuments,  their  importance  in  the 
estimation  of  the  Greeks,  133. 

Mysteries,  Grecian,  preserved  the  religion 
of  the  initiated,  37.  were  introduced 
from  abroad,  ib.  preserved  the  symbol- 
ical meaning  of  the  gods,  38. 

Navy,  its  predominance  over  the  army  in 
the  Grecian  states  after  the  battle  of 
Platsese,  155,  166.  naval  science  among 
the  Greeks,  167.  the  expense  of  build- 
ing ships,  ib.  difiiculty  of  manning  the 
fleets,  ib.  operations  limited  to  the 
Ionian  and  ^gean  Seas,  ib.  shape  of 
the  most  ancient  ships,  168.  invention 
of  triremes,  ib.  fleets  first  supported  by 
the  Grecian  cities  in  the  7th  century, 
169.  naval  architecture  no  further  ad- 
vanced till  the  Macedonian  age,  ib. 
naval  tactics  of  the  Greeks,  170. 

Naxus,  19. 

Nemean  Games  at  Argos,  84. 

Nonus,  78. 

Olympian  the  temple  at,  a  national  temple, 
82.  the  oracle  hushed,  83.  the  games 
of,  84. 

Optimates,  108. 

Oracles  among  the  Greeks,  82.  the  con- 
necting link  between  politics  and  the 
popular  religion,  83. 

Orators  in  the  Grecian  states,  their  origin, 
184. 

Orpheus,  68. 

Ostracism  at  Argos  and  Athens,  120. 

Painting  among  the  Greeks,  232. 

Paper  Money  unknown  in  Greece,  131. 

Parmenides,  199. 

Par  OS,  19. 

Pausanias,  his  fall,  98.  the  causes  which 
led  to  his  treachery,  156. 

Pelasgi,  their  earliest  condition,  21.  gra- 
dually reduced  and  finally  lost,  22. 

Peloponnesus,  The,  geographical  view,  2. 
occupied  chiefly  by  the  Dorians  and 
iEtolians,  23. 

Pelops,  his  migration  into  Greece,  46. 

Periander,  174. 

Pericles,  100, 179.  the  principle  by  which 
he  was  actuated,  180. 

Persian  Wars,  after  the  Trojan  war  the 
first  grand  object  of  common  interest 
among  the  Grecian  states,  94.  their  in- 
fluence on  the  foreign  relations  and  in- 
ternal condition  of  Greece,  97. 


Persians,  their  prevailing  idea  was  to  take 

vengeance  on  Athens,  96. 
Petalism  at  Sparta,  120. 
Phemius,  68. 
Ph&recydes  of  Syros,  211. 
Phidias,  230. 
Philip  of  Macedon,  188. 
Philosophy,  not  enthralled  by  the  religion 
of  the  Greeks,  43.  its  connexion  with 
politics,    194.    its    conflict    with    the 
popular  religion,  194,  199.  Anaxagoras, 
194.  Pythagoras,  195.  first  applied  to 
political  science  by  the  sophists,  198. 
after  the  time  of  Pythagoras  philosophy 
applied  solely  to  metaphysical  specula- 
tions, 199.  the  philosophv  of  Socrates, 
203,  204,  205.  of  Plato,  206. 
Phoccea  founded,  64. 
Phocis,  geographical  view,  14. 
Phoenicians,  The,  early  devoted  to  com- 
merce and  the  founding  of  colonies,  44. 
Pindar,  84. 

Pisatis,  a  division  of  Elis,  6. 
Pisistratus,   arranged  and  committed  to 

writing  the  writings  of  Homer,  79. 
PittacuSy  174. 
Plat<B(B,  battle  of,  96.  the  tactics  of  the 

opposite  forces,  161. 
Plato,  banished  from  his  republic  Homer's 
narrations  respecting  the  gods,  79.  his 
character  and  philosophy,  206. 
Poetry,  Epic,  its  importance  among  the 
Greeks,    68.   it    emigrated    with    the 
colonies  to  Asia,  70.  its   influence  on 
the  state,  217.  a  chief  means  of  forming 
the  character  of  youth,  218.  connected 
with  music,  ib.  the  connexion  of  lyric 
poetry   with    religion,   219.    dramatic 
poetry  concerns  the  state  most  nearly, 
220. 
Poets,  The,  created  the  special  characters 
of  the  Grecian  divinities,  32.  the  proba- 
ble character  of  those  who  preceded 
Homer,  69.  changes  in  their  relations 
after  the  time  of  Homer,  76. 
Political  Science,  its  condition  among  the 
Greeks,  123.  the  influence  of  slavery, 
125.    the    mercantile    and    restrictive 
system  unknown,    128.  coinage,    129. 
paper  money  unknown,  131.  taxation, 
138.  customs,  141.  farming  the  revenue, 
143.  who  fixed  the  taxes,  ib.  the  con- 
nexion of  philosophy  with  politics,  194, 
198. 
Polygamy,  not  directly  authorized  in  the 

heroic  age,  58. 
Polygnotus,  2.32. 

Population  of  Greece  in  the  heroic  age,  56. 
Praxiteles,  230. 

Priests,  no  distinct  caste  of,  among  the 
Greeks,  27,  82,  208.  their  situation  and 
character  in  the  nation,  40.  the  office 
not  long  filled  by  the  same  person,  42. 
had  no  secret  system  of  instruction,  43. 


i 


INDEX  TO  ANCIENT  GREECE. 


513 


Protagoras,  201. 

Pyrrho,  205. 

Pythagoras,    195.    his    philosophy    and 

policy,  196—198. 
Pythian  Games  at  Delphi,  84. 

QuintuSf  78. 

Jteligion,  the  foundation  of,  26.  the  popu- 
lar religion  of  the  Greeks,  27,  82.  its 
character  and  its  influence  on  the  mo- 
rals of  the  nation,  34,  82.  it  was  tho- 
roughly poetical,  36.  never  became  in 
any  considerable  degree  a  religion  of 
state,  44.  its  conflict  with  the  philo- 
sophers, 194,  199,  239.  its  desecration 
in  the  later  ages,  238. 

Rowers,  in  the  ancient  Grecian  ships,  sat 
in  one  line,  168. 

Salamis,  19.  battle  of,  96. 

Samothrace,  19. 

Sanctuaries  needed  for  celebrating  the 
common  festivals  among  the  Greeks,  88. 

Sardis,  burning  of,  96. 

Sciences,  their  influence  on  government, 
192,  193.  the  public  provision  made  for 
their  advancement,  193. 

Sculptors,  Grecian,  represented  their  di- 
vinities  in  human  shapes,  36. 

Sculpture  among  the  Greeks,  230. 

Senate,  in  various  Grecian  cities,  114. 

Seven  Wise  Men,  The,  were  rulers,  pre- 
sidents, and  counsellors  of  state,  174. 

Sicyon,  8. 

Slavery,  its  prevalence  among  the  Greeks, 
124.  its  influence  on  their  political 
science,  125.  and  on  the  character  of 
the  citizens,  127. 

Smyrna,  founded  by  ^olians,  64. 

Socrates,  203.  his  philosophy,  ib.  his  mode 
ofteaching,  204,  205. 

Solon,  established  regulations  for  the  re- 
citation of  Homer's  rhapsodies,  78.  did 
not  attempt  to  form  a  new  constitution, 
106.  in  his  name  statesmen  first  ap- 
peared, 174.  was  a  poet  and  soldier,  as 
well  as  law-giver,  ib. 

Sophists,  The,  first  applied  philosophy  to 
political  science,  198.  first  gave  in- 
struction for  pay,  200.  their  course  of 
instruction,  201.  their  lax  moral  princi- 
ples, 202. 

Sparta,  built,  3.  before  the  Persian  wars 
always  asserted  a  kind  of  supremacy 
over  the  Peloponnesus,  98.  loses  the 
nominal  supremacy  in  the  Persian  wars, 
ib.  her  government  that  of  an  heredit- 
ary aristocracy,  108.  long  without  fi- 
nances, 132.  had  no  popular  tribunals, 
152.  its  militia  resembled  a  standing 
army,  156.  scarcity  of  great  command- 
ers, ib.  had  little  cavalry,  158.  its  rival- 
ry with  Athens,  237. 

States,  Grecian,  with  few  exceptions  were 


cities  with  their  districts,  66,  104.  had 
all  free  constitutions,  105. 

Statesmen,  Greek,  the  influences  which 
formed  their  character,  173.  the  first 
who  deserved  the  name  appeared  in  the 
age  of  Solon,  174.  their  objects  and 
influence,  175.  their  relations  to  mili- 
tary commanders,  ib.  the  age  of 
Themistocles,  176.  that  of  Pericles,  179. 
that  of  Demosthenes,  183.  when  advo- 
cates became  statesmen,  185. 

Sybaris,  its  destruction,  196. 

Syracuse  claims  to  lead  the  Greeks  in  the 
Persian  wars,  98. 

Tactics  of  the  Greeks,  military,  163.  naval, 
170,  172. 

Tarentum  founded,  64. 

Taxes  among  the  Greeks,  138.  they  under- 
stood the  diff'erence  between  direct  and 
indirect,  ib.  poll-tax  levied  chiefly  on 
resident  foreigners,  139.  on  property, 
ib.  indirect,  141. 

Thales,  174. 

Thasos,  19.  its  gold  mines,  131. 

Themistocles,  95,  98,  170.  his  character 
and  influence,  176.  was  a  pupil  of 
Mnesiphilus,  198. 

Theseus,  date  of  his  undertaking  against 
Crete,  51. 

Thessaly,  geographical  view,  16. 

Thrace,  its  gold  mines,  131. 

Thucydides,  his  history,  215. 

Tragedy  among  the  Greeks,  223.  its  in- 
fluence, 224. 

Triphylia,  a  division  of  Elis,  5. 

Triremes,  invention  of,  168.  formed  the 
principal  strength  of  the  Grecian 
fleets,  ib. 

Troy,  the  eff"ect  on  Greece  of  the  Trojan 
war,  61,  63,  65. 

Tyrants,  the  name  given  by  the  Greeks 
to  all  irresponsible  rulers,  105,  120. 

Voting,  mode  of,  in  the  Grecian  assem- 
blies, HI. 

War,  the  art  of,  in  the  heroic  age,  60. 
reasons  for  its  slow  advances,  1 54.  mi- 
litia, ib.  the  Grecian  armies  not  nu- 
merous, 155.  after  the  battle  of  Plataese, 
wars  were  conducted  chiefly  by  sea, 
156.  troops  were  not  paid,  157.  weak- 
ness of  the  cavalry,  or  want  of  it,  158. 
infantry,  159.  tactics,  160.  the  change 
in  the  art  of  war  eff'ected  by  Epaminon- 
das,  163.  payment  of  troops  introduced, 
164,  employment  of  mercenaries,  165. 
the  results  of  this,  166. 

Weaving,  the  art  of,  in  the  heroic  age  of 
Greece,  58. 

Xerxes,  his  invasion  of  Greece,  95.  burns 

Athens,  96. 
Xenophanes,  199. 
Xenophon,  166.  his  Anabasis,  217. 


INDEX 


TO 


HISTORICAL  TREATISES. 


AddingtoHy  488. 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  treaty  of,  435. 

Alberoni,  400. 

Albert  of  Brandenburgh,  259. 

Alexander  of  Russia,  488. 

America,  British  colonies,  war  with,  447. 

Amiens,  peace  of,  488. 

Anne,  queen  of  England,  her  policy  and 
continental  relations,  395. 

Armada^   The  invincible,  its  destruction. 
377. 

Arminians,  in  the  Netherlands,  270. 

Assiento,  treaty  of,  401. 

Augsburgh,  peace  of,  254,  291. 

Augustus  II.  of  Poland,  his  death,  422. 

Augustus  III.,  422. 

Austria,  the  house  of,  its  aggrandizement 
out  of  the  disturbances  of  the  Reform- 
ation, 257.  the  influence  of  the  Reform- 
ation, ib.  close  alliance  with  England, 
393.  alliance  with  Russia,  415.  war  of 
succession,  425.  her  change  in  her  rela- 
tions with  England,  426.  war  with  re- 
volutionary    France,    467.    peace    of 
Campo  Formio,  475.  negotiations  with 
Russia,  481.  joins  the  great  confederacy, 
482.  joins  the  third  confederacy,  494. 
peace  of  Presburg,  ib. 
Austerlitz,  battle  of,  494. 

Balance  of  power^  developement  of  the 
principle  in  Europe,  285.  originated  in 
Italy,  286. 

Bartholomew,  St.,  massacre  of,  262. 

Basle,  peace  of,  471. 

Bengal,  the  English  establish  themselves 
here,  448. 

Bodin,  John,  his  work  De  Bejmblicd,  316. 

Bohemia f  converted  into  an  hereditary 
state,  258.  the  Thirty  Years'  War  com- 
menced here,  293. 

Boulogne  taken  by  the  English,  371. 

Bremen,  duchy  of,  sold  to  Hanover,  406. 

Breslau,  treaty  of,  302. 

Britain,  Great,  its  interests  as  a  naval  and 
insular  power,  363. 

Bromsebroe,  peace  of,  403. 

Bull,  The  Golden,  252. 

Buonaparte,  474.  conquers  Italy,  ib.  em- 
peror, 493.  his  designs  on  Russia  and 
Spain,  498. 


Cabot,  John,  373. 
Calais,  lost  by  England,  372. 
Calmar,  The  Union  of,  271,  273. 
Calvin,  John^  337. 

Cambray,  The  League  of,  251.  its  dissolu- 
tion, 369. 
Campo  Formio,  peace  of,  475. 
Carlos,  Don,  son  of  Philip  V.,  420. 
Carteret  succeeds  Walpole,  431. 
Catharine,  her  marriage  with  Artliur,  son 

ofHenry  VII.,  368.  and  to  Henry  VIII. 
369.  ^ 

Catharine  II.,  her  interposition  in  Po- 
land, 276.  institutes  the  Armed  Neu- 
trality, 449.  defensive  alliance  with 
England,  472. 

Chambers,  They  the  organ  of  constitu- 
tional government,  355.  their  func- 
tions, ib. 

Charles  I.  of  England,  322.  his  accession 
and  policy,  384. 

Charles  II.  of  England,  298,  322.  his  sub- 
serviency to  France,  388. 

Charles  V.,  his  opposition  to  the  Reform- 
ation, 253.  his  policy  as  head  of  the 
house  of  Austria,  257. 

Charles  VI.,  421,  422. 

Charles  XII.,  his  invasion  of  Poland,  275. 
his  abilities  and  undertakings,  299.  his 
death,  409. 

Charles,  Archduke  of  Austria,  483. 

Chatham,  334. 

Chauvelin,  464. 

Choiseul,  340. 

Christian  III.  of  Denmark,  273. 

Christian  IV.  of  Denmark,  273. 

Christianity,  in  its  doctrines,  is  unconv 
nected  with  politics,  279. 

Christina,  her  profusion,  299. 

Church,  the  condition  of  its  union  with 
the  State  at  the  time  of  the  Reform- 
ation, 249,  250. 

Clergy,  change  in  their  condition  by  the 
Reformation,  281. 

Cloth  manufactures  introduced  into  Ene- 
land,  374.  ^ 

Colbert,  284,  391. 

Community,  Civil,  what  it  means,  325. 

Compact,  the  theory  that  the  state  is 
founded  on,  327. 

Compact,  The  Family,  445. 


INDEX  TO  HISTORICAL  TREATISES. 


515 


"  Contrat  Social,**  345. 

Copenhagen  attacked,   488.  bombarded, 

496. 
Corpus  Evangelicorumt  256. 
Cressy,  peace  of,  371. 
Crimea,  The,  its  independence  founded, 

452: 
Cromwell,  his  conquest  of  Ireland,  267. 

his  continental   policy,  384.   his  war 

with  Holland  and  Spain,  386. 
Crusades,  The^  their  effect  in  Europe,  246. 

Denmark,  progress  and  influence  of  the 

Reformation  in,  272. 
Dettingent  battle  of,  431. 
Domingo,  St.,  lost  by  France,  467. 
Dresden,  peace  of,  433. 
Dupleix,  435. 

East  India  Company  established  in  Eng- 
land, 380. 

Edward  VI.,  264.  his  continental  rela- 
tions, 372. 
Egypt,  French  expedition  to,  479. 
Ehrenbreitstein  seized  by  France,  478. 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  264.  declines  the  offers 
oftheNetherlanders,  269,  289.  the  ex- 
tent of  her  power,  281.  her  death,  290. 
her  reign  forms  an  epoch  in  the  conti- 
nental history  of  England,  375.  takes  a 
share  in  the  Flemish  disturbances,  377. 
war  ^vith  Spain,  ib.  her  relations  with 
France,  378. 
Elizabeth,  daughter  of  James  1.,  383.  her 

marriage,  ib, 
Elizabeth,  queen  of  Philip  V.,  413. 
Enghien,  Duke  D',  493. 
England,  progress  and  influence  of  the 
Reformation,  264,  321.  introduction  of 
a  new  rule  of  faith,  288.  advance  of 
political  inquiry,  318.  the  early  history 
of  parliaments,  319.  the  causes  of  the 
civil  war,  321.  her  interference  in  con- 
tinental affairs  in  the  middle  ages,  368. 
her  continental  relations  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VII.,  ib.  of  Henry  VIII.,  370. 
of  Edward  VI.,  372.  of  Mary,  ib.  im- 
portance of  the  wool  she  produced,  373. 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth  an  epoch  in  the 
continental  history  of  England,  375.  the 
accession,  principles,  and  policy  of  James 
I.,  381,  et  seq.  accession  of  Charles  I., 
384.   the  continental  policy  of  Crom- 
well,  lb.   colonies  in  North  America 
and  the  West  Indies,  385.  the  Naviga- 
tion Act,  386.  accession  of  William  III., 
388.  his  policy  and  continental  rela- 
tions, 392.  those  of  Anne,  395.  con- 
nexion with  Portugal,  396.  first  grants 
subsidies,  ib.  effects  of  the  peace  of 
Utrecht,  397.  accession  of  the  house  of 
Hanover,  ib.  its  continental  policy,  398. 
comiexion   with    the   regent   Orleans, 
401.  participation  in  the  great  war  in 
Germany,   402.    treaty  with  Sweden, 


404.  war  with  Sweden,  406.  alliance 
with  Sweden  against  Russia,  409.  po- 
licy of  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  412.  alli- 
ance with  France  and  Prussia,  415  ac- 
cession of  George  II.,  419.  policy  of 
England  hereupon,  ib.  intricacy  of  con- 
tmental  connexions,  422.  war  with 
Spain,  424.  change  in  relations  with 
Austria,  426.  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle 
and  its  results,  435.  hostilities  in  the 
East  Indies,  ib.  predominance  of  the 
navy,  436.  state  of  continental  relations, 
ib.  war  in  Germany,  440.  administra- 
tion of  Pitt,  ib.  close  connexion  with 
Portugal,  444.  conclusion  of  the  war, 
446.  disputes  with  Wilkes,  ib.  war  with 
the  American  colonies,  447.  establishes 
herself  in  Bengal,  448.  asserts  the  do- 
minion of  the  seas,  449.  Armed  Neu- 
trality, ib.  altered  relations  with  the 
Netherlands,  450.  the  Triple  Alliance, 
452.  general  character  of  her  continen- 
tal policy,  457.  joins  the  confederacy 
agamst  France,  464.  war  with  France, 
465.  alliances  and  negotiations  there- 
upon, 468.  alliance  with  Russia,  472. 
war  with  Spain,  473.  results  of  the 
peace  of  Campo  Formio,  475.  negotia- 
tions with  France,  476.  French  expe- 
dition to  Eg>'pt,  481.  great  confeder- 
acy agamst  France,  482.  league  of  the 
northern  powers  against  England,  484. 
Copenhagen  taken,  488.  peace  of  Ami- 
ens, ib.  renewal  of  the  war,  491. 

Estaples,  peace  of,  369. 

Eugene,  Prince,  301,  397. 

Europe,  influence  of  the  Reformation  on 
the  general  politics  of,  277.  framed  by 
It  into  one  political  system,  295.  the 
states  forming  it  were  constituted  with- 
out any  general  theory,  310. 

Eustace,  St.,  conquered  by  England,  448. 

Fatio,  339. 

Fehrbellin,  battle  of,  299. 

Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  250;  joins  the 
holy  league  against  France,  369. 

Ferdinand  /.,  292. 

Ferdinand  II.,  258. 

Ferdinand  VI.  of  Spain,  436. 

Feudal  law,  the  influence  on  it  of  the 
Crusades,  246. 

Filmer,  Sir  Robert,  323. 

Flag,  neutrality  of,  485. 

Fleury,  Cardinal,  340,  416. 

Fox,  Charles,  476,  495. 

France,  progress  and  influence  of  the 
Reformation,  261.  the  first  to  adopt  ex- 
tended views  of  policy,  298.  foundation 
of  absolute"  power  laid  by  Richelieu, 
318.  reasons  why  political  inquiry  made 
no  progress  in  France,  ib.  rivalry  with 
France  the  soul  of  British  policy,  389. 
the  commencement  of  the  Revolution, 
459.   the   Constituent  and  Legislative 


516 


INDEX  TO  HISTORICAL  TREATISES. 


Assemblies,  460.  the  National  Conven- 
tion, ib.  execution  of  Lewis  XVI., 
464.  invades  the  Austrian  Netherlands, 
ib.  war  with  England,  465.  with  Aus- 
tria, Prussia,  and  Sardinia,  467.  loses 
St.  Domingo,  468.  conquest  of  Holland, 
469.  the  Directory,  473,  476.  conquers 
Italy,  474.  peace  of  Campo  Formio, 
475.  expedition  to  Egypt,  479.  capture 
of  Malta,  482.  great  confederacy  against 
France,  ib.  its  dissolution,  484.  peace 
of  Amiens,  488.  renewal  of  the  war, 
491.  the  imperial  throne  erected,  493. 
third  confederacy  against  France,  ib. 
peace  of  Tilsit,  496. 

Francis  I.,  261.  his  alliance  with  the 
Porte,  287.  his  wars  with  Charles  V., 
370.  his  fate  at  Pavia,  ib. 

Francis  of  Alcn^on,  269. 

Frederic  the  Wise^  his  adhesion  to  the 
Reformation,  252. 

Frederic  II.  of  Prussia,  425.  his  conquest 
of  Silesia,  260.  examination  of  his  con- 
duct after  1740,  433. 

Frederic  III.,  252. 

Frederic  III.  of  Denmark,  273. 

Frederic  V.  Elector,  his  marriage  with 
the  daughter  of  James  I.,  383. 

Geneva  f  318.  its  influence  on  the  practice 
of  politics  in  Europe,  336.  the  changes 
in  its  constitution  after  the  Reformation, 
338,  et  seq. 

George  /.,  his  continental  policy,  398 — 419. 

George  II.,  his  accession,  419. 

Germany,  the  immediate  consequences  of 
the  Reformation,  252.  its  condition  as  a 
state  at  that  period,  ib.  subsequent 
struggle,  253,  &c. 

Gibraltar  obtained  by  England,  397. 

Gomarists,  in  the  Netherlands,  270. 

Gorz,  Baron,  406. 

Gregory  the  Seventh,  the  temporal  au- 
thority established  by  him  was  broken 
down  before  the  Reformation,  249. 

Grenville,  Lord,  495. 

Grotius,  Hugo,  his  character  and  work, 
315. 

Gustavus  Vasa,  271. 

Gustavus  Adolphus,  induced  by  Richelieu 
to  take  part  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
295.  his  death,  296. 

Hanover,  accession  of  the  House  of,  397. 
its  continental  policy,  398. 

Hapsburg,  House  of,  its  sudden  rise,  286. 

Henry  II.,  his  alliance  with  Maurice  of 
Saxony,  287. 

Henry  IV.  of  France,  291. 

Henry  VII.,  his  expedition  into  France, 
369. 

Henry  VIII.,  264.  his  marriage  with 
Catharine,  369.  his  war  with  France, 
ib.  his  part  in  the  wars  between  Fran- 
cis I.  and  Charles  V.,  370. 


Herren-haus,  alliance  of,  415. 

Hierarchy,  how  far  it  is  a  safe-guard  to 
the  throne,  265. 

"High  Commission"  of  Elizabeth,  264. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  324. 

Hugonots,  The,  262.  forcibly  disarmed, 
297. 

Hungary,  converted  into  an  hereditary 
state,  258.  influence  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, ib» 

Indies,  East,  become  the  seat  of  British 
and  French  hostilities,  435.  increased 
power  of  the  British,  448. 

Ireland,  efiects  of  the  Reformation  in, 
267. 

Isabella,  wife  of  Edward  II.,  368. 

Italy,  the  state  of  its  politics  at  the  time 
of  the  Reformation,  250.  reasons  for  its 
little  progress  therein,  276.  political 
speculation  first  developed  here,  312. 
defect  of  political  theories,  ib. 

Jamaica  conquered  by  England,  387. 

James  I.  of  England,  291,  321.  his  acces- 
sion and  principles,  381.  his  war  with 
Spain,  383.  his  part  in  the  negotiation 
for  the  independence  of  the  Nether- 
lands, 382.  project  of  a  Spanish  match 
for  his  son,  383.  marriage  of  his  daugh- 
ter, ib. 

James  II.  of  England,  298. 

Jansenism,  263. 

Jassy,  peace  of,  453. 

Jesuits,  origin  of  the  order,  282. 

John  Sigismond,  259. 

Joseph  II.,  284. 

Jourdan,  General,  474. 

Labour donnais,  435. 

Latin  language,  its  prevalence,  for  the 
purpose  of  writing,  assisted  the  progress 
of  the  Reformation  in  Poland,  274. 

League,  The  Catholic,  292. 

Leiois  XIV.,  his  age,  298.  his  death,  400. 

Lewis  XV.,  his  marriage,  413. 

Lewis  XVT.,  460. 

Lippe  Buckeburg,  Count  William  of,  445. 

Locke,  John,  329.  his  writings  and  influ- 
ence, 331.  his  differences  with  Rous- 
seau, 349. 

Lottvois,  394. 

Lutter,  battle  of,  295. 

Lutzen,  battle  of,  295. 

Machiavel,  313. 
Malmsbury,  Lord,  476. 
Malta  captured  by  France,  482. 
Mantua  taken  by  the  French,  475. 
Maria  Teresa,  425,  437. 
Marlborough,  301,  396. 
Mary,  queen  of  England,  264.  her  con- 
tinental relations,  372. 
Matthias,  King,  258. 
Maurice  of  Orange,  270. 


INDEX  TO  HISTORICAL  TREATISES. 


517 


Maurice   of   Saxony,   his    alliance   with 

Henry  II.,  287. 
Maximilian  I.,  253.  his  war  with  Charles 

VIII.,  369. 
Ma^milian  II.,  292. 
Melanctho7i,  his  desire  for  the  purifying  of 

philosophy,  307.  his  work  on  physics, 

308.  his  "Elements  of  Ethics,"  309. 

his  definition  of  virtue,  ib. 
Methuen,  396. 
Micheli,  339. 

Minorca  taken  by  England,  397. 
Monarchy,  in  what  it  consists,  353. 
Montesquieu,  his  influence  on  France,  341. 
Moreau,  General,  474. 
Miihlberg,  battle  of,  254. 

Nantes,  Edict  of,  261.  its  revocation,  263, 
301. 

"Nature,  State  of*  theoretical  foundation 
of  government,  325. 

Navigation  Act,  386. 

Necker,  340. 

Neerwinden,  battle  of,  469. 

Negapatuam  conquered  by  England,  448. 

Nelson,  481. 

Netherlands,  The  United,  influence  and 
progress  of  the  Reformation,  268.  ac- 
complish their  independence,  269. 
revolution  in,  288.  war  renewed  by 
Philip  IV.,  294.  their  independence 
recognised,  296.  political  inquiry  made 
no  progress  here  after  the  Reformation, 
314.  the  decline  of  the  state  owing  to 
its  abstinence  from  interference  in  the 
affairs  of  other  states,  366.  differences  I 
with  England,  450.  domestic  ferments 
and  intervention  of  Prussia,  451.  inva- 
sion by  France,  464.  conquest,  469. 

Neutrality,  Armed,  449. 

Nile,  battle  of  the,  481. 

Nimeguen,  peace  of,  300. 

Nystadt,  peace  of,  410. 

Oldenbarneveld,  270. 

Oliva,  peace  of,  260,  297. 

Orleans,  Duke  of,  regent  of  France,  400. 

Pardo,  treaty  at,  416. 

Parliament,  British,  its  eariy  history,  319. 

Passau,  treaty  of,  254. 

Paul,  emperor  of  Russia,  481. 

Pavia,  battle  of,  370. 

Pelham,  437. 

People,  Sovereignty  of  the,  the  basis  of 
Rousseau's  system,  351. 

Peter  the  Great,  301 . 

Philip  IL,  the  allegiance  of  the  Nether- 
lands shaken  off,  269,  288.  his  marriage 
with  Mary,  372.  his  death,  290. 

Philip  IV.  renews  the  contest  with  the 
Netheriands,  294. 

Philosophy,  the  Reformers  did  not  intehdJ 
to  found  new  systems  of,  306.  its  ne*«?d* 
of  being  purified,    ib.  applied  by  the 


Reformation   to   the   improvement   of 
morality,  309. 

Pitt,  William,  the  first,  432.  Kis  adminis- 
tration, 440. 

Pitt,  William,  the  younger,  his  character 
and  administration,  458.  his  East  In- 
dia Bill,  460.  his  retirement,  488.  ac- 
complishes a  third  confederacy  against 
France,  493.  his  death,  494. 

Poland,  progress  and  influence  of  the  Re- 
formation in,  274.  invasion  by  Charies 
XII.,  275.  interposition  of  Catharine 
II.,  ib.  fall  of  the  state,  276.  first  par- 
tition of,  452.  last  partition,  472. 

Politics,  with  religion,  the  only  subjects 
readily  appreciated  by  the  great  mass 
of  people,  245.  the  state  of  politics  at 
the  time  of  the  Reformation,  250.  its 
influence  on  the  general  politics  of  Eu- 
rope, 277. 

Pombal,  444. 

Porte,  The,  alliance  of  Francis  I.  with. 

287. 

Portugal,  reasons  for  the  little  progress  of 
the  Reformation  in,  276.  close  con- 
nexion with  England,  396,  444.  in- 
volved in  war,  ib. 

Pragmatic  Sanction,  302,  421. 

Prague,  battle  of,  (1620,)  258. 

Presburg,  peace  of,  494. 

Princes  of  Europe,  increase  of  their  power 
by  the  Reformation,  280. 

Property,  Security  of,  the  first  object  of  a 
state,  325. 

Prussia,  owes  the  foundation  of  its  mon- 
archy to  the  Reformation,  259,  299. 
raised  to  a  kingdom,  260.  keeps  securely 
together  the  North  and  South  of  Eu- 
rope, 300.  alliance  with  England  and 
France,  415.  war  with  revolutionary 
France,  467.  secedes  from  the  alliance 
against  France,  470.  her  neutrality  in 
the  great  confederacy,  482.  joins  an 
Armed  Neutrality  against  England, 
487.  joins  the  third  confederacy  against 
France,  493.  occupies  Hanover,  495. 
renewed  war  with  France,  496. 

Rastadt,  congress  of,  478. 

Reformation,  The,  the  second  great  moral 
revolution  in  modern  Europe,  247.  its 
influence  necessarily  political  in  con- 
sequence of  the  union  of  Church  and 
State,  249.  it  presented  a  new  and 
mighty  interest,  251.  its  progress  and 
influence  in  Germany,  252,  &c.  in  Aus- 
tria, 257.  Hungary  and  Bohemia,  258. 
,  ip  Prussia,*  25a.»  in-  ^wntzerjand   and 

;  France,  fe6l.  p  feiwl^ncf,  ^^.  in  Ire- 

*lan(l,.267t4n  ihe^l^tteeJ  Netherlands, 

268.  in  Sweden,  270.  in  Denmark,  272. 

ii^Polaiid,«274iin.i^}sii95€pajn,  Por- 

•.  lu^al,  ftnS«  Italy*,  276.  jits  ;;in5\|fence  on 

*  Ihe  g'eneml  p«litic9  -(Jf'Europej  277.  on 
the  organization  of  society,  278.  on  the 


• ». 


■  •  • 


•  • 


«      • 


518 


INDEX  TO  HISTORICAL  TREATISES. 


mutual  relations  of  the  European 
states,  284.  first  formed  Europe  into 
one  political  system,  295.  raised  Prus- 
sia to  a  leading  place  in  Europe,  299. 
its  effects  on  commerce  and  the  co- 
lonial system,  303.  applied  philosophy 
to  the  improvement  of  morality,  309.  was 
the  origin  of  political  speculation,  313. 

Reformers,  did  not  propose  to  found  new 
systems  of  philosophy,  306.  speculated 
as  to  God,  and  what  pertains  to  him,  309. 

Reichenbach,  peace  of,  453. 

Religion,  with  politics,  the  only  subjects 
readily  appreciated  by  the  great  mass  of 
people,  245.  became  at  the  Reformation 
the  mainspring  of  politics,  251.  be- 
comes a  part  of  the  constitutional  basis 
of  all  governments,  278.  the  pivot  of 
English  and  European  politics  when 
the  Stuarts  ascended  the  throne,  380. 

Republic,  in  what  it  consists,  353. 

Restoration,  The,  in  England,  298. 

Revolutions,  their  different  characters,  244. 
determine  the  fortunes  of  our  race,  246. 
more  extensive  in  their  progress  than 
the  originators  of  them  proposed,  306. 

Richelieu,  262,  291.  lays  the  foundation  of 
absolute  power  in  France,  318. 

Ripper  da,  Duke  of,  414. 

Rivalry  of  nations,  a  spur  to  the  develop- 
ment of  their  powers,  389. 

Rochelle^  peace  of,  262. 

Roschild,  peace  of,  403. 

Rousseau,  328.  his  "  Contrat  social,"  345. 

Rudolf  II,,  290,  292. 

Russia,  little  progress  made  by  the  Re- 
formation in,  276.  development  of  her 
power,  405.  alliance  with  Austria,  415. 
its  fleets  appear  in  the  Mediterranean, 
452.  negotiations  with  Austria  and  with 
England,  481.  joins  an  Armed  Neu- 
trality against  England,  487.  accession 
of  Alexander,  488.  joins  the  third  con- 
federacy against  France,  494. 

Ryswick,  treaty  of,  301,  392. 

Seville,  treaty  of,  420. 

Sheep,  breeding  of,  the  principal  employ- 
ment of  the  English  farmer  in  the  16th 
century,  373. 

Shendan,  R.  B.,  476. 

Sidney,  Algernon^  329. 

Silesia,  conquest  of,  by  Frederic  II.,  260. 

Slave  Trade,  African,  379. 

Smalcald,  League  of,  254. 

Society,  eflfects  of  the  Reformation  on  its 
organization,  278. 

Soctnkin^,. formaUy^s^bUshedin  Roland, 

Sovereignly,  of  wiwi  it  CQn^st6,.35<J.  •»• 


Spain,  reasons  for  the  little  progress  made 
by  the  Reformation  in,  276.  vacant  suc- 
cession to  its  throne,  301.  withdraws 
from  the  alliance  against  revolutionary 
France,  471.  joins  France,  473. 

Speculation,  political,  the  causes  of  its  ex- 
istence, 311.  first  developed  in  Italy,312. 

Stanislaus  Leseinsky,  413. 

State,  The,  condition  of  its  union  with  the 
Church  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation, 
249,  250. 

Stuarts,  their  accession  to  the  English 
throne,  381. 

Subsidies  first  granted  by  England,  396. 
operation  of  them,  428. 

Sully,  291. 

Suwarrow,  483. 

Sweden,  progress  and  influence  of  the 
Reformation  in,  270.  after  the  Thirty 
Years'  War  ranked  among  the  first 
powers  of  Europe,  296.  treaty  with 
England,  404. 

Switzerland,  progress  of  the  Reformation 
in,  261.  attacked  by  France,  478. 

Theology,  Natural,  308. 
Thirty  Years*  War,  255,  293. 
Toleration  Act,  in  England,  266. 
Trafalgar,  battle  of,  494. 
Travendal,  peace  of,  404. 
Trinconomale,  conquered  by  England,  448. 
Turks,    The,  their   aggressions  on   Ger- 
many, 299. 
Tuscany,  secured  to  Don  Carlos,  420. 

Union,  The  Protestant,  292. 
United  States  of  America,   their  inde- 
pendence, 268. 

Verden,  duchy  of,  sold  to  Hanover,  406. 

Vergennes,  340. 

Vervins,  peace  of,  379. 

Victor  Amadeus  II.,  394. 

Vienna,  peace  of,  258,  393. 

Virtue,  Melancthon's  definition  of,  309. 

Walpole,  Sir  Robert^  his  continental  po- 
licy, 411. 
Walpole,  Horatio,  419. 
Wehlau,  treaty  of,  259. 
Westerds,  Diet  of,  272. 
Westphalia,  treaty  of,  255,  260,  296. 
Wilkes,  John,  446. 
William  III.  of  England,  298.  his  policy, 

392. 
William  IV.  of  the  Netherlands,  436. 
Wolsey,  Cardinal,  won  over  by  Charles 
,    v.,  370. 

Wool,  produced  by  England,  373. 
<  JP'07-ms,  Diet  of,  252. 


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